


Come Bay at the Moon

by Hazel_Athena



Series: Werewolf AU [1]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 76,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9513083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel_Athena/pseuds/Hazel_Athena
Summary: The man cocks his head at Vasquez, his bright grin never faltering. “Well, I’ve got no idea what that last word you said means, but I’m sure as hell behind the rest of it. Joshua Faraday, at your service. You got a name, handsome?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I ... okay, so I have no excuse for this. I started out wanting to write a silly, short oneshot of a modern day AU where most of the crew are werewolves, and then things got a little out of control. By which I mean about 75k worth of words out of control. This here is what I've been thinking of as 'Act 1' of this debacle. I'm hoping to have the other two parts up in no less than the next three weeks. As it happens, large chunks of Act 2 are already done and ALL of Act 3 is minus some general editing. So, I guess there's that?

_Prologue_

Faraday’s seen some pretty shoddy work in his time, but if the half a dozen gentlemen who are currently fanning out around his table in the bar are trying to be anything resembling subtle he’s afraid they’re failing by a wide margin. He goes so far as to catch the eye of the one he determines to be in charge and gives the man a deliberate wink, causing his new friend to grimace and flush red.

Once the hired goons, and Faraday’s positive that’s what they are, have sequestered him off from the rest of the bar to their apparent satisfaction, they collectively turn their backs on him, seemingly waiting for something else. He wonders idly if he should be concerned, chances were good most people who found themselves in a situation such as this would be at least a mite perturbed, but Faraday’s mainly intrigued.

Some time passes, about fifteen or twenty minutes if Faraday is anyone to judge, and he whiles it away by playing with the deck of cards he’d tucked away in his coat pocket prior to heading out for a night on the town. Eventually, the head of goon squad starts to shift, his attention now focusing on a sharply dressed man who’s just entered the bar, and Faraday perks up at this obvious sign that something interesting might finally be about to happen.

The new arrival makes his way further into the bar, and a couple of men peel out of various spots to flank him. Faraday suspects they’re more hired help, with the other fellow being the key player in whatever’s going on.

Unsurprisingly, the man makes his way over to Faraday’s table, sliding through two of the men watching him with the barest hint of a nod in their direction. He comes to a stop right in front of Faraday’s table and draws back the seat directly across from him.

“Mr. Faraday,” the man says - he has an accent Faraday can’t quite place and a tone he doesn’t much care for. “Do you mind if I sit?”

Faraday snorts, he hates it when men like this try and pretend like nothing hinky is going on. “Given that you’ve got me surrounded by your men, I don’t imagine it matters if I mind or not.”

The man smiles at him, nodding his head in recognition of the hit. “Your point is well made, Mr. Faraday, but that’s no excuse for poor manners, don’t you think?”

Faraday doesn’t care much about manners one way or another, so he shrugs. “Don’t matter to me none.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” the man says. He pulls the chair back even further and finally settles into it. “Mr. Faraday, my name is Bartholomew Bogue, and I find myself in need of the assistance of someone like you.”

Faraday supposes he should be grateful he’s facing a job pitch as opposed to some other sort of shakedown, but mostly he just feels annoyed that this is how a potential employer has chosen to approach him. The ones who like to make an obvious show of strength before anything else always tend to be the most annoying.

What he says though is, “I’m listenin’.”

Bogue nods and reaches into his jacket, eventually drawing out a large manila envelope from which he then proceeds to remove a number of photos. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of me or not, but I deal heavily in the real estate industry.”

Faraday shrugs. “I can’t say that’s a field I’m heavily involved in.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Bogue admits. “Some people think it’s something of a dying industry, and maybe it is, but I intend to see it through while I can. Unfortunately, I’ve run into some problems as of late.”

He places the photos face up on the table, and Faraday lets out a low whistle. Dead men stare up at him from the pictures, each and every one of them looking like they’ve been mauled by wild animals, large wild animals.

Bogue meets Faraday’s gaze when he looks up. “As you can see, I’ve got something of a wolf problem.”

“What makes you think it’s wolves?” Faraday asks, stalling for time. “I’ve always heard that a wolf won’t attack a human without reason.”

“Please, Mr. Faraday,” Bogue says tiredly. “Can we drop these silly pretenses?” He narrows his eyes and taps one of the photos pointedly. “You and I both know I’m not here to talk to you about normal wolves. I’ve got a problem, Mr. Faraday, and it’s one you can help with.”

The word neither of them is saying lies heavily between them. “I don’t hunt ‘em without reason,” Faraday says finally. “Most of their kind live perfectly respectful lives and never harm anybody. There’s plnty of other things that go bump in the night for me to waste my time on.”

Bogue taps one of the photos again, this time much more forcefully. “Does this look harmless to you, Mr. Faraday? These are from a previous project of mine, a town out west by the name of Rose Creek. I lost almost a dozen men out there before I pulled back. I tried leaving it alone and setting up shop elsewhere, working on a new project, but the damn things have followed me and I’m worried they’re going to start attacking my people again.”

Faraday chews thoughtfully on his bottom lip for a moment before replying. “Well, the thing of it is, Mr. Bogue, when I hear a story like this, what I wonder is what you’ve done to set an entire pack off.” He meets Bogue’s offended stare head on, refusing to back down. “Werefolk don’t attack like this for no reason, my friend. What’d you do to them?”

Bogue stares back at him for a few seconds, but then the moment passes and he huffs out a sigh. “Very well,” he says, and Faraday thinks he might be just the slightest bit impressed with Faraday calling him out. “My previous work was potentially going to turn Rose Creek into a ghost town, albeit one where the people losing their homes were to be fully compensated for the land they’d be giving up, but those animals had other ideas. They attacked, and they won.”

He rubs at the bridge of his nose. “I had thought that would be the end of it. They got to keep their territory, and I went and found work elsewhere. Unfortunately, they seem to have taken the whole affair personally. I’m at risk of losing men again, Mr. Faraday, and I’m not willing to sit around and let this end up like another Rose Creek. I’ve got the manpower to fight these things, but not the skill. That’s where you come in. Your reputation precedes you.”

Faraday had already figured that part out, not that it was surprising. Once a person got it into their head that werewolves were real and there was a situation where they needed dealing with, his name usually the first in the hunting community that cropped up, a fact he could thank his late mother for.

Bogue leans forward in his seat, his voice insistent. “Look, Mr. Faraday, you don’t have to like me and you don’t have to like the job, but the fact of the matter is that I’m a victim here. I’ve as much right as anybody to my work so long as it’s legal, which it is, and these animals are destroying both it and my people. I know you don’t kill the things without reason, that was why I came looking for you in the first place. I want this done right.”

Faraday rolls his eyes. “Flattery isn’t necessary, Mr. Bogue. I’ve worked for plenty of men I didn’t much care for in the past. Tell me why I should add you to the list.”

Now Bogue sighs. “Look, what about this - you come down and see what I’m dealing with. If, after assessing the situation, you think there’s truth to what I’m saying, then you clear these damn things out. If not, you walk away and I go back to fighting a losing battle on my own. Either way, I’ll pay you well, which I think we both know you could use.”

Faraday’s quiet for several moments. The fact that he’s damn good at it aside, he doesn’t particularly enjoy hunting weres, always feeling like he’s walking a fine line between right and wrong when he does so since, unlike so many other creatures he’s come across in the past, they’re entirely sentient. Still, he’s done plenty of things he’s not proud of in order to make a living, and if Bogue’s telling the truth and this particular pack really is out killing folks, even folks like him, then it was hardly like anyone else would be good for the job. At least Faraday’d have the decency to kill them quickly.

“Alright,” he says finally, “I’ll come down and take a look, but I hope you know that when you say you’re going to pay me well, you mean damned well.”

Bogue doesn’t bother trying to hide it as he rolls his eyes. “I assure you, Mr. Faraday, of this I have no doubt.”

*****

Vasquez is napping in a patch of dying sunlight in the backyard when he’s rudely awakened by the sound of snarling coming not far from him. Snuffling irritably, he cocks his head to the side and tries to suss out what the noise is and who’s making it. A pained yelp followed by a lower growl sound out from off to his left and that’s enough to answer both of his questions.

Rolling over on his stomach, he gets his paws beneath him and pushes up off the ground, shaking dust and grass from his coat as he goes. He trots over in the direction of the noise, and isn’t at all surprised when Red and Teddy soon come into view, both of them also in wolf shape and Red with Teddy pinned under him as the younger were snaps futilely up at his face.

He’s just about to announce his presence, preferably with a sharp growl stemming from his annoyance at having his sleep interrupted, when the back door of the farmhouse slams open and Emma stomps outside. The look on her face is more than enough to make Vasquez shrink back due to not wanting to get caught in the sudden line of fire.

“Would you two cut that shit out?” She barks, and Vasquez bets if he were closer he’d be able to see she’s showing more teeth than is normal for a human woman. “I swear it’s getting so neither of you can go five minutes without being at each other’s throats again.”

She was right about that. They’ve all been on edge since they’d been forced to abandon Rose Creek, and it’s leading to more instances of infighting among the pack. Red and Teddy may be the worst culprits, but they were hardly the only ones. Even Goodnight and Billy had been snapping at each other this morning, and that was virtually unheard of.

As he watches from his position, Emma shoos Red and Teddy away, telling them that if they had to fight they could at least have the decency to do it somewhere far enough away that she could still hear herself think. The two of them slink off soon after, Teddy with his tail between his legs and Red with his head up like he’s trying to pretend he’s above the whole thing but clearly just as chastised as his companion.

“Honestly,” Emma grouses once they’re out of sight. “How much longer do you think they’re going to be like this?” She asks.

Surprised, he hadn’t realized she’s spotted him; Vasquez rises up out of his crouch and shifts back to human. “About as long as it takes for them to feel safe again,” he says once he has a mouth capable of forming the words.

She huffs. “So never then, hmm?”

Their flight from Rose Creek had not been enjoyable, but if luck was with them they’d finally managed to run far enough to put the past behind them where it should be. Still, it would likely take considerable time before anyone felt completely safe, and, until then, tensions would run high. Vasquez opens his mouth to say all of this, but thinks better of it. Why should he tell Emma things she already knows? He shrugs instead.

“That’s what I thought,” Emma mutters. Rubbing her temples like she’s trying to ward off a headache, she turns to make her way back inside, her wedding ring glinting briefly when the shift in position brings her hand into the sunlight.

Vasquez considers returning to what he’d been doing, but Red and Teddy are still loose in the yard and it’s probably only a matter of time before they start fighting again. That’s no way to try and enjoy a nap, so he sighs and pads into the house as well, snagging a pair of jeans off the deck railing and pulling them on as he goes.

Jack’s in the kitchen with Emma as he comes inside, and it takes Vasquez a second of watching his hands before he realizes he’s whittling of all things. Their oldest packmate was a strange one to be sure, but Vasquez supposed he was welcome to pass the time away however he chose.

“Evenin’,” Jack murmurs upon spotting him his hands never ceasing their movements as he shapes the wood into who knows what.

Vasquez dips his head in greeting, but doesn’t say anything. Crossing the room he hauls open the door of the fridge and peers inside to see if he can find something he feels like eating. It’s getting late, certainly late enough for a bite of supper, but none of the food sitting on the shelves looks particularly appetizing to him. He closes the door with a sigh and turns back to look at Jack.

For his part, the older were just gazes calmly back at him. “You look troubled, Vasquez. Is something wrong?”

Vasquez snorts. Jack doesn’t usually go in for asking stupid questions, but it seemed like tonight might be an exception.

With the possible exception of Sam, Jack’s the only one of them who’s accepted their new lot in life with anything approaching serenity. Red and Teddy are constantly at each other’s throats as they try and take their frustrations out on each other, and Emma now lives her life with a barely contained ball of rage lurking deep within her, perpetually on the verge of spilling over. Meanwhile, Goodnight is always on edge and waiting for the other shoe to drop, and Billy is no better since as long as Goodnight is uncomfortable then so is he.

And as for Vasquez, perhaps troubled wasn’t quite the right word to describe him. No, he thinks, it’s more accurate to say he’s restless and irritated by turns.

“What isn’t wrong?” He asks finally. “We’re none of us too content with our lot in life right now, wouldn’t you say?”

“I wouldn’t say that, actually,” Jack replies. “Oh, it’s taking some time for everyone to adjust sure enough, but we _are_ adjusting.”

Vasquez snorts. “We fight all the time. Not with people on the outside, but with each other. How is that a sign of adjusting?”

Now Jack gives him a pitying look. “Oh, son,” he says with a sad shake of his head. “Sometimes I forget how you were on your own before Sam tracked you down.”

Vasquez bristles at that, his ire automatically rising, and he opens his mouth to give the older man a piece of his mind.

“Don’t,” Jack says, raising his hand and cutting off the words before any of them can escape. “We both know you’ll just wind up saying something you regret. Better to just keep yourself quiet if that’s how it’s going to be.”

Growling, Vasquez spends a moment considering if he does want to start a fight or not, but in the end he thinks better of it. He could probably take Jack, but in the end what would be the point? And it was true; he’d no doubt regret it once his temper wasn’t flaring quite so hotly.

His mouth remaining firmly shut, Vasquez gives Jack a curt nod and leaves the kitchen while he’s still in the right mindframe to do so. He wishes like anything he could shake the subtle feeling of wrongness that’s been hovering over his head since they’d been forced to resettle so far away from Rose Creek.

“Something got your back up there, Vasquez?” A quiet voice asks, and Vasquez freezes, realizing only now that his meandering path out of the kitchen has for some reason lead him to the living room instead of upstairs and into his own space like he’d originally planned.

He glances over at where Sam is sitting curled up in one of the overstuffed armchairs and takes a deep breath that he then lets out slowly. He needs to calm down. It doesn’t matter how he does it, but it needs to happen.

“I’m fine,” he says, belatedly answering Sam’s question. He’s not fine, and no doubt they can both tell this, but if he doesn’t say something Sam will only keep pushing.

“You don’t look fine,” Sam says, indicating that he’s apparently going to keep pushing regardless of what Vasquez tells him. “In fact, I’d go so far as to say you’re looking somewhat wild around the eyes. What’s wrong?”

“What isn’t wrong?” Vasquez asks tightly. He hadn’t meant to say that, doesn’t know why really he’d let it out, but let it out he had and now they’re going to have to deal with it. “I feel … eh, I don’t even have the words to describe it. I just know I’m going to go out of my mind if I don’t do something about it.”

He pauses for a second, before nodding his head decisively. “I’m going out.”

Sam’s eyes narrow at this. “Now, Vasquez,” he starts, “far be it from me to tell you what can and can’t do, but we do not need to be bringing trouble to our doorstep, you hear me?”

“What makes you think I would do something like that?” Vasquez demands.

“The look on your face right now for starters,” Sam replies. He gives Vasquez a long look. “I can’t say it’s making me overly comfortable.”

“Yes, well, I can’t say that I care.” Vasquez tells him. He hasn’t spent much time in the nearby town, not even when they’ve been here for months already, but he’s been there enough and right now he has the feeling that if he doesn’t get a change of scenery immediately, he’s going to do something unfortunate. Sam can dislike the idea all he wants, he’s going. There’s a bar he’s been too once or twice already, maybe he can hide himself in there for a while and see if doing so will help.

His mind made up, he ignores Sam’s exasperated scowling and heads off in search of his keys.

*****

If Vasquez was hoping to feel better when he arrived at the bar, he winds up being sorely mistaken. The noise and the smells emanating from inside the building – which aren’t even that bad based on normal standards – are almost enough to keep him on the street, or worse drive him back to where he’d left his car.

The image of being surrounded by a press of bodies, none of whom he knew and who would be close enough for their scents to potentially rattle him, sits poorly with him, and it’s only the thought of having to return to the crushing atmosphere of the farmhouse, with its near constant tensions and the inability to stay out of each other’s personal space, that finally gets his feet moving.

As much as he likes being part of a pack again, likes the sense of closeness and the feeling of having people watching his back, right now he’s in desperate need of some space. If he spends one more second trapped under the weight of Sam’s overprotective stare or Emma’s righteous fury, he’s going to lose his mind.

Part of him wonders if it’s got something to do with how long he was on his before Sam had found him, if the constant, crushing lack of a family – which he’d been forced by necessity to adapt to, something none of his kind handle well – had warped him in some way. He doesn’t remember ever feeling overwhelmed by the presence of his first pack, but then he’d never felt like they hadn’t fit together, like there was a missing piece keeping him from being totally settled with his lot in life.

Maybe it was instead the lingering after effects of the events in Rose Creek, combined with the knowledge that Bart Bogue remained out there somewhere, and how there was no guarantee he wouldn’t come for them again. Or maybe it was something else. Vasquez didn’t know, and he wasn’t about to find out now.

Shaking his head to clear it, he pushes his maudlin thoughts away, telling himself sternly that he’s not allowed to dwell on such things tonight. After all, he’s left the house and come into town for the express purpose of getting out of this funk, and that wasn’t going to happen if he dragged his issues with him.

The bar isn’t much too look at, and it’s cramped and loud in a way that sets Vasquez’s teeth on edge, leaving him spoiling for a fight. He knows Sam won’t appreciate it if _that_ ends up being how he passes his time, knows that on top of Sam’s inevitable disappointment he’ll be forced to endure Emma’s unimpressed glare and Jack’s soft scolding, maybe even Goodnight’s worry, but he figures tonight is going to have to be fight or fuck where distractions are concerned and a quick sweep of the room doesn’t reveal anyone who looks like they might interest him for the latter.

On the other hand, walking into a bar and simply starting to throw punches isn’t likely to make him feel any better right off the hop either. It’s best he at least get something alcoholic in his system first, even if it won’t have near the effect on him that it will on the other patrons.

He stalks – there’s really no other word for it – up to the bar and catches the eye of the woman behind it. She’s attractive in a rough looking way, with hair dyed a vibrant, firey red in some places and pitch black in others, but all she does is give him a coolly disinterested glance and ask him what he wants.

Grinning his most wolfish grin at her, Vasquez tips an imaginary hat and requests the strongest drink she has.

She blinks once, still managing to look unimpressed. “Pretty sure I’ve got a thing of whiskey somewhere that could blister your insides.”

That sounds like exactly what he wants and he tells her so, adding calmly, “Just bring me the bottle.”

She frowns then, the first time she’s shown anything resembling an emotion since her arrival, but then shakes her head, making an obvious decision not to ask. “It’s your funeral.”

Since he can’t tell her that nothing in her stores will be able to knock him on his ass, at least not the way he wants, he just smirks and watches as she disappears into the back room. He taps his fingers absently on the bar’s polished countertop as he waits, half-listening to the sounds of the room around him. His hearing in this shape is nothing compared to what it is when he lets the wolf out, honestly he may as well be deaf the difference is so stark, but he can still pick up the strains of various conversations and knows each time the door opens and closes as well as whether or not it admits someone or lets someone else back out into the night.

One such admittee makes a beeline for the bar the moment they’ve crosses the threshold of the doorway. The person, the man, Vasquez can tell, stomps over to the bar and takes the seat right next to him, flinging himself down on it with little grace and a sigh that suggests he’s having a poor evening of his own. Not wanting to deal with anyone until he has a drink in his hand, Vasquez studiously ignores him.

The stranger huffs, annoyed, and drums his hands on the countertop. It’s a virtual carbon copy of the move Vasquez had been making mere minutes earlier, but it’s no longer being done by him and is therefore irritating.

“She’s gone to place an order,” he snaps, assuming the man’s actions are stemming from the lack of immediate service. “I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”

His attention not yet on Vasquez, the man makes a scoffing sound as he starts to turn. “Sorry, I didn’t realize expectin’ to find a bartender in a bar was such a – _hello_.” Green eyes flashing, he gives Vasquez the most blatant once over he’s ever been on the receiving end of. “Never mind,” he says decisively. “Let her take all the time she needs.”

Vasquez stares at him incredulously. “You can’t be serious, guero.”

The man cocks his head at Vasquez, his bright grin never faltering. “Well, I’ve got no idea what that last word you said means, but I’m sure as hell behind the rest of it. Joshua Faraday, at your service. You got a name, handsome?”

“Vasquez,” he grits out, and if anybody ever bothers to ask he’ll cite his being taken aback by Joshua’s forwardness as his reason for handing it over.

Joshua snorts. “You got a _first_ name, handsome?” His grin somehow ratchets up another notch. “Fair’s fair. I gave you mine.”

“Alejandro,” Vasquez replies, and then waits for Joshua to butcher it like most people do.

True to form, Joshua lets out a garbled version of the name, but then surprises Vasquez by wrinkling his nose, unimpressed with himself. “Nah, that wasn’t right, and I don’t need the look on your face to tell me so. Say it again?”

Vasquez does so, repeating his name another three times before Joshua gets it down.

“Alejandro,” he says, and this time the name rolls off his tongue exactly as it’s meant to. “Nice. I like that.” Vasquez would tell him he could care less about what Joshua likes, but he’s oddly intrigued by the man at this point and keeps the thought to himself.

“Can I buy you a drink, Alejandro?” Joshua asks then. “That is, if the bartender ever deigns to come back and grace us with her presence?”

As if she’s been summoned, the woman in question materializes in front of them and places a bottle directly in front of Vasquez. “Here,” she says. “Should I bother to get you a glass or are you just going to take it as is?”

“Glass, please,” Vasquez tells her, reaching for the bottle and cracking it open.

She stares at him, unamused and then turns to Joshua. “Is he with you?” She asks, jerking a thumb in Vasquez’s direction. “Because if he is, you’d better damn will wrestle any car keys off him by the end of the night. Otherwise I’m going to have the bouncers go for him when he tries to leave.”

The bouncers couldn’t take him even if they came at him all at once, Vasquez knows, but that’s another thought for him to keep to himself. Instead, he concentrates on pouring some whiskey into the glass that’s magically appeared in front of him.

Beside him, Joshua watches the proceedings with raised eyebrows, seemingly having forgotten his quest for a drink of his own as the bartender wanders away. “And I thought I was havin’ a rough night. You drinkin’ to forget there, big guy?”

“Aren’t most people?” Vasquez shoots back.

Joshua leans back in his seat, his hands raised in recognition of the point. “Fair enough.” Then he flashes his ever present grin again. “But, you know, if you won’t let me buy you a drink then maybe you should buy me one.”

Vasquez, his glass halfway to his lips, pauses. Joshua was certainly easy enough on the eyes. He was an inch or two shorter than Vasquez, but solid all the way around, with the build of a man who’d be strong enough to hold him down if he were human and the look of one who’d try it even when presented with evidence to the contrary.

Best of all, though, was how Vasquez knew deep in his bones that half the pack would dislike him on sight.

Decision made, he rests his untouched glass on the bar and sends it spinning gently towards Joshua, who catches it easily, not spilling so much as a drop. Grinning, Vasquez takes a pull directly from the bottle and salutes him with it.

“Cheers.”

*****

“This is a terrible idea,” Vasquez mutters as his back hits the now closed door to Joshua’s hotel room.

“Yeah?” Joshua asks between heated kisses, “why’s that?” He has his hands under Vasquez’s jacket and is studiously untucking his shirt from his pants, clearly in a hurry. “You honestly gonna tell me you’ve never been picked up in a bar before?”

“First of all, I’m pretty sure it was me who did the picking up,” Vasquez growls back, “and second, I didn’t say it was a terrible idea I was going to back out of, guero. Calm down.”

“Thank fuck,” Joshua mutters. “Also, Jesus Christ, how many layers have you got on here? It’s the middle of fuckin’ summer, man.”

“Do you know you swear more when you get agitated?” Vasquez asks just to be an ass.

“No fuckin’ shit.” Joshua snaps back. “Come on; get your damned coat off. Shoes too.”

Laughing, Vasquez does as ordered, kicking free of his boots and dropping his coat on the first available chair. It’s a decent enough hotel room, not top tear but also not rundown enough he’d be afraid of catching something just by looking at furniture. He briefly wonders what’s brought Joshua to town, only to decide he doesn’t care. Joshua not being a local will make this even easier in the long run.

“You want my shirt gone too, guero?” He queries playfully.

“Do I want the shirt gone too, he asks?” Joshua says to the room at large. He gives Vasquez a narrow-eyed stare as he hauls off his own coat and kicks his shoes out of the way. “What do you fuckin’ think?”

Since Joshua’s already helped him partway along by untucking the shirt for him, Vasquez makes quick work of the item of clothing in question, hauling it off in one fluid motion and tossing it behind him with little care or concern.

“Damn,” Joshua breathes, looking delighted. “Damn damn _damn_! Can I?” He asks, holding up his hands, his meaning plain.

A little surprised he’d even bothered to ask, Vasquez nods slightly, and seconds later Joshua’s big, sturdy hands settle just above his hips, framing his waist. His skin is warm to the touch, but Vasquez still shivers when his fingers start tracing tiny, swirling patterns over his skin. “You like what you see?” He asks, voice rough.

“Oh, I definitely like what I see,” Joshua says appreciatively. “If I’d known you were hidin’ all this under that coat I’d have suggested we leave that bar ages before you did.”

Vasquez snorts. “You flatter me.”

“What can I say? My Ma always told me to be polite to strangers.” Without warning, he leans forward and sinks his teeth into the column of Vasquez’s throat, making him gasp.

“You always leave marks without asking, guero?” Vasquez asks, bringing one hand up and tangling it in the back of Joshua’s hair.

Joshua pulls back just far enough to smirk at him, and runs his tongue over his bottom lip in a most enticing manner. “It’s low enough your shirt will cover it,” he points out, utterly unconcerned.

“You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?”

Joshua shrugs again. “My Ma also always told me I was a smartass.”

“Guero, stop talking about your mother, please.” Vasquez says, exasperated. “I’m not interested in a threesome.”

“We’d need a ouija board for that anyway,” Joshua says with a laugh.

Vasquez isn’t touching that one come hell or high water and decides a change of scenery is necessary. Bringing his hands up so they’re lying flat against Joshua’s chest, he pushes the man gently towards the bed. Of course, since he does it gently for him, what actually happens is Joshua hits the side of the bed and topples over; landing sprawled on his back with a startled yelp.

“Jesus,” he says, propping himself up on his elbows as Vasquez stalks after him. “Oh you are going to be _fun_.”

Following him down onto the bed, Vasquez crawls over until he can climb over him and settle down straddling his waist. “I can’t help but notice,” he says roughly, “that you’re somewhat overdressed.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t help but notice that … aw, fuck it, I can’t even form words just lookin’ at you, you fuckin’ Greek god.”

Vasquez leans forward so that his mouth is inches away from Joshua’s ear. “Wrong country, cabrón,” he murmurs, laughing when Joshua shudders under him. “Now come on, let me see some skin.”

“You are a highly inappropriate man, Alejandro,” Joshua says, and Vasquez decides he quite likes the way his name sounds when it’s coming out in the low register Joshua’s voice has dropped into. He also quite likes the sight before him when Joshua tugs his own shirt off and flings it off to the side, so that it lands in a crumpled heap in front of the room’s lone window.

“And you think I’m pretty,” he croons mockingly.

Joshua laughs, loud and bright, bringing his hands up to cup Vasquez’ face and drag him down into a kiss. “Like I said,” he says when they break apart. “You are going to be fun.”

Vasquez kisses him again, nipping at him playfully as he moves to slide backwards. He leaves a trail of kisses down Joshua’s sternum, biting occasionally, but mainly just leaving brief presses of his lips as he moves downward.

“You have anything in particular in mind, guero?” He asks, hovering with his hands resting on Joshua’s belt.

Joshua bucks his hips up and groans deliciously. “God. Fuck. I am not fuckin’ picky. You do whatever you fuckin’ want down there.”

“You, my friend,” Vasquez says as he undoes Joshua’s belt and makes quick work of his jeans and underwear, “like to live dangerously.”

“Life ain’t worth livin’ if you’re not willin’ to gamble every now and again,” Joshua says breathlessly, swearing when Vasquez ducks down and takes him in his mouth. “Oh, motherfuck, you do not mess around do you? _Fuck_.”

Vasquez’s only response is to suck him harder, hollowing out his cheeks while Joshua lets out a garbled moan and throws his head back against the pillow, panting harshly.

“Fuck,” he chants. “Fuck fuck fuck _fuck_. Oh my fuckin’ god, but I made the right choice to go out tonight.”

Vasquez will say this for Joshua, he makes for a hell of an appreciative audience. Working him with both his hands and his mouth, Vasquez brings him right to the cusp, not even minding when Joshua thrusts up unexpectedly and almost chokes him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Joshua gasps. He’s got his fingers clenched tightly in the sheets, the muscles of his arms straining as he obviously fights to keep himself together.

For his part, Vasquez has no interest in letting him do that. He’s enjoying watching Joshua come apart at the seams, which is why he just takes it and lets it happen, not pulling back until he can feel Joshua tense when he’s right on the verge of coming.

He does pull back then, spitting a little and not caring what anyone may think of that. Wrapping a hand around Joshua’s cock, he fists him slowly, more slowly than Joshua approves of if the way he whines is anything to go by, only speeding up when Joshua’s breath starts coming faster until he’s panting raggedly into the night.

“Fuck,” Joshua gasps. “I’m gonna – fuck,” and then he’s spilling all over Vasquez’s hand as he gasps for breath.

Vasquez strokes him through it, enjoying watching him work through the aftershocks, and then crawls forward along the bed until he can catch the man’s mouth with his own.

Still shaking, Joshua brings his hands up and loops them around the back of Vasquez’s neck, moving easily into the kiss and keeping it up until his breathing has steadied out and he’s able to focus again.

“Damn,” he says appreciatively. “Where have you been all my life?”

“All over, guero,” Vasquez tells him. “But for now I think you owe me a favor, no?”

“Hmm? Oh, sorry.” Much to Vasquez’s delight, Joshua’s face flushes, although he meets Vasquez’s gaze sure enough, and brings his hands down to work at the button of the jeans he’s still wearing. “You got any special requests? I’ve got condoms and lube around here somewhere if you want.” His expression shifts into a wicked grin. “I’ve got a feelin’ I’d enjoy you puttin’ me on my knees.”

Vasquez hums thoughtfully at this, and he turns the idea over in his head. Then he grins, not missing the way Joshua’s breath catches when he does so. “How do you feel about saving that for round two?”

Joshua stares up at him for a second or two before his face splits into a devilish grin. “Like I keep sayin’, _you_ are all kinds of fun.”

*****

Faraday had half expected to wake up alone, and he’s pleasantly surprised when he cracks his eyes open the next morning and can still feel a long line of heat pressed up against his back. It matches the pleasant ache in his thighs and further signals a night well spent. Shifting ever so slightly, he cranes his neck to look back around and is greeted with the sight of Alejandro sound asleep behind him with his face mashed into a pillow and one arm flung up in front of him.

He’s quite the sight is Alejandro. Faraday thinks the argument could be made that he’s even more attractive in the bright light of day than he had been in the bar the night previous, which was no small feat, and he’s idly pondering whether or not he should try convincing the man to go for another round before he takes off when the jarring sound of an obnoxious phone ringtone shatters the quiet of the room.

Alejandro jerks awake with a start, clearly disoriented by his surroundings if the look on his face is anything to go by, and flails about for a few seconds until he manages to get his limbs under control. The phone rings out again while he’s still blinking furiously in the morning sunlight, and the man swears viciously under his breath.

“Sorry about this,” he growls, giving Faraday an apologetic shrug as he kicks the bedcovers back and ducks down towards the floor. He roots around in what Faraday eventually realizes is the pile of clothing he’d kicked off upon their arrival last night, and comes back with a cellphone clutched tightly in one hand. “The little bastards think it’s funny to mess with the sound when I’m not watching.”

Faraday has no idea who he’s talking about, but if the look on Alejandro’s face is anything to go by, whoever it is might be about to get an earful.

“ _What_?” Alejandro barks as he thumbs the phone on and brings it to his ear. Faraday can’t help but breathe a small sigh of relief as the obnoxious ringtone finally cuts out. “I was sleeping, cabrón! What could you possibly need from me at this hour in the morning?”

Faraday has a sneaking suspicion that this conversation is about to become somewhat more personal than he’s comfortable with, so he kicks his own self free of the bedding and gets up without a word. As Alejandro continues making snide comments as whomever the unfortunate person on the other end of the line is Faraday roots around in one of his duffle bags for some clean clothes and then makes his way over to the bathroom.

He thinks about getting a quick shower while he’s in there, but that seems rude in light of the fact that he still has company – regardless of how distracted said company may or may not be at the moment. Instead, he gets dressed and cleaned up as best he can.

He’s just splashed some cold water on his face when he hears Alejandro snap something along the lines of “Well then I suggest you remind him that he’s not my fucking mother and I can do as I please”, followed by a thumping sound. Concerned, Faraday quickly swipes one of the hotel’s softer towels over his face and then steps back out into the main room.

Alejandro’s lying on his back, with both hands scrubbing tiredly at his eyes. He’s tugged his jeans on at some point while Faraday was in the bathroom and his left leg is swinging back and forth in what Faraday can only think of as a frustrated arc. Near him, the bedside table is still rattling ever so slightly, suggesting that Alejandro may have hauled off and kicked it at the conclusion of his conversation.

Faraday clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, everythin’ alright?”

His hands still over his face, Alejandro’s entire body stiffens. “Mierda,” he mutters, the word coming out muffled. “Lo siento, guero. I forgot you were here.”

Faraday huffs a tiny laugh. “Yeah, I’d figured as much. You okay?”

Alejandro uncovers his face, resting one hand low on his stomach while he extends his other arm back behind his head and uses it to prop himself up a little. “Do you really want to know? Or is curiosity just eating away at you?”

Enjoying the sight the other man makes splayed out all over the mattress, Faraday grins down at him. “Bit of both,” he admits. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans one shoulder up against the wall of the room. “That didn’t sound like a particularly fun chat.”

Waving his free hand dismissively, Alejandro shrugs as best as he can with the position he’s reclining in. “Just family drama,” he says, “or close enough for it to count anyway.”

Faraday hasn’t had a family to have drama with since his Ma passed away almost a decade ago, and for all that Alejandro was willing to admit that was a relative he’d just been arguing with on the phone, Faraday has a sneaking suspicion he doesn’t much want to get into details. “That doesn’t sound like much fun,” he decides. “Can I interest you in a more pleasin’ alternative?”

Alejandro raises an eyebrow at him, and there’s no mistaking the salacious grin that spreads across his face. “What’s that, guero?” He asks with a laugh. “Are you thinking of offering me one more round for the road? Something to remember you by, no doubt.”

While Faraday had initially been thinking just that, he suddenly changes his mind. It’s been a long couple of weeks since he’d arrived in town, and Alejandro’s the first company he’s had who hasn’t been in some way connected to Bart Bogue and his miserable operation. Another bout of sex between them would no doubt be a fine time, but Faraday suspects they could both use a change of pace.

Settling his back more firmly against the wall he’s been leaning on, he gazes at Alejandro and steels himself for a more unusual request than he’d previously been planning on making. “Actually, I was thinkin’ that this place does a decent enough complimentary breakfast and I’m hungry. Care to join me?”

Alejandro’s eyebrows go up in surprise, and he cocks his head at Faraday, chewing absently on his bottom lip in apparent thought. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, guero?” He says finally, and Faraday doesn’t think he means it in a bad way.

For his part, Faraday shrugs and tries his best to look indifferent, like he invites his random hookups to breakfast with him the next day all the time. Never mind the fact that he’s never so much as let one stay the night if he could avoid it. “Surprise can be a good thing, don’t you think?”

Alejandro grins at him then, sharp and bright. “That it can,” he agrees. “Alright, breakfast it is, but there had better be coffee.”

Faraday snorts. “Alejandro, my friend, if there ain’t any coffee, I will personally start a riot right there in the dining room.”

*****

They take a couple minutes for Alejandro to throw last night’s clothes back on and duck into the bathroom for his own purposes. He somehow manages to come out looking far better than Faraday ever has in yesterday’s jeans and a rumpled shirt that had spent the night on someone else’s floor, but then, he already gave off an air of being more put together than Faraday could ever hope to be so that probably shouldn’t be too surprising.

Once Alejandro is up and dressed they make their way out of the room and down to the dining area. Truth be told, Faraday hasn’t spent much time there himself, choosing instead to forage for food elsewhere more often than not, but he hadn’t been lying when he’d said they did a decent enough breakfast. He’s enjoyed his meals the few times he’s bothered to eat there.

It’s a buffet style set up, so they each just move along the line and grab what they want. Once that’s done, Faraday looks around for a suitable place to sit, jumping a little when Alejandro nudges him in the shoulder with a food laden plate. Following the other man’s gaze, he spots a small table tucked off to the side that no one has claimed yet and nods his head in agreement.

They’re quiet when they first sit down to eat, awkward but not at the same time.

“You from around here?” Faraday asks when he’s no longer able to stand the silence.

Alejandro smirks at him from over the edge of the food piled high on his plate. Faraday had thought he had a healthy appetite, but he’s apparently got nothing on his dining companion. “Really, guero?” He asks with a laugh. “You think I’m from around here with this accent?”

In hindsight it was probably a stupid thing to ask, but Faraday just shrugs, doing his best to let the matter roll of his back without issue. “Fair enough,” he agrees. “Where’re you from then?”

“Mexico, originally,” Alejandro says. “Then all over. I’ve been something of a wanderer for a while now.”

Faraday gets the feeling that this really isn’t a topic Alejandro wants to delve into, at least not on his own behalf, and he feels further convinced of this when the man adds, “What about you? Seeing as you’re living out of a hotel room, I don’t imagine you’re a local.”

“I could be,” Faraday says just to be contrary. He grins when Alejandro rolls his eyes at him as he takes a large bite of the scrambled eggs in front of him. “But you’re right, I’m not. I’m here for work.”

Alejandro looks mildly intrigued by this. “What do you do?”

Now that is a complicated question. Luckily, Faraday’s long had a response for it prepared, even though he doesn’t get asked it all that often. “I’m an independent contractor,” he says. “I can’t actually tell you much more than that as a lot of the shit involved tends to be confidential, but it’s a lot more boring than it sounds. Basically I do the work my clients need me to do and, among other things, they pay to put me up wherever I need to be until the job is done.”

The look on Alejandro’s face shifts from intrigued to something more akin to thoughtful. “And how long are you here for?”

Faraday feels a little jolt surge through him at the question. Unless he’s reading things very wrong, that sounds an awful lot like a potential opening to see each other again. If he’s right, and that’s what it is, he figures he might just surprise himself and take Alejandro up on the offer.

“I’m not sure,” he admits after he’s taken a couple bites from one of the pancakes he has sitting in a stack on his own plate. “This particular job isn’t goin’ all that well at the moment, so I could be here for a while yet. Or I could get told to take a hike. Your guess is as good as mine.”

Chuckling, Alejandro loads another clump of eggs on his fork and stuffs them into his mouth. He chews slowly for a moment or two and then swallows. “It must be hard, living like that sometimes, not knowing where your next paycheque is coming from,” he clarifies when Faraday raises a confused eyebrow at him.

“Eh,” Faraday shrugs. “I make enough to get by and I have pretty much full control over what I do, when I do it, and where I do it. There are worse ways to make a living.”

“Now that,” Alejandro says fervently, “I will give you. There is definitely something to be said for not having to answer to anyone other than yourself.”

Thinking back to Alejandro’s mood following his little chat with whatever family member had been on the other end of the phone earlier, Faraday makes an executive decision not to pry into that comment. Instead, he searches about for a safer topic, and what comes out of his mouth is, “Uh, how’re the eggs?”

 _Brilliant, Joshua_ , he thinks as he feels his face start to flush, _that’ll win him over for sure._

Alejandro smirks at him around a forkful of the eggs in question, like he knows exactly where Faraday’s train of thought is heading. “The eggs are fine,” he says, swallowing. “Though I’ve had better.”

Faraday shrugs. “Yeah, well, I said this place did a decent breakfast, but I never promised you the fuckin’ Ritz.”

“Oh, trust me,” Alejandro says as he scrapes up more eggs. “I wasn’t expecting it. However, since I wasn’t expecting anything from you aside from maybe another quick fuck, I figure you’re doing alright.”

Not for the first time, Faraday curses his mother’s Irish heritage for giving him a complexion that reveals even the slightest blush. He ducks his head in the vain attempt to preserve his dignity. “For the record, I considered offerin’ you that instead.”

Alejandro chuckles at this low and amused. “I figured,” he admits. “Although,” he adds slowly, and here his voice changes, going softer and losing some its mocking edge, “I don’t think I mind this.”

Faraday does look up at this, and he’s surprised to find Alejandro looking a little embarrassed. He’s can’t be certain, but it looks like Faraday might not be the only one here who’s looking for something different.

Unplanned, he shifts a little and bumps Alejandro’s ankle with his foot, feeling gratified when the motion earns him a small smile in return.

“Really, guero?” He asks with a laugh, although Faraday doesn’t miss the way he nudges back.

“Sure, why not?” Faraday grins and grabs for his cup of coffee. Blowing on the beverage he takes a couple sips and then focuses back on Alejandro. “What’s that mean anyway? Guero? I feel like you’ve called me it a half a dozen times now, and I don’t know if I should be insulted or not.”

“Eh,” Alejandro says with a shrug, looking unbothered. “Why don’t you look it up for yourself and find out?”

Faraday lets his grin widen. “Because then I’d be pullin’ my phone out at the breakfast table and ignorin’ my company in favor of that. Where I come from we have better manners than that.”

Alejandro laughs and leans forward, propping his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hands, his eyes sparkling. “I highly, _highly_ doubt that.” He says, and then adds slyly. “Guero.”

Faraday laughs as well and makes a note to look the word up as soon as Alejandro’s not looking. He jabs his fork in the other man’s direction. “Eat your breakfast, you ass.”

*****

It doesn’t take them much longer to finish eating, even in spite of how they both have healthy appetites, and Alejandro makes an annoyed sound as they stand up to leave. Confused, Faraday cocks his head at him. “Everythin’ alright?”

“My jacket,” Alejandro says. “It’s still in your room.”

“Oh, right,” Faraday acknowledges. He’d forgotten Alejandro had had one of those on him when they’d stumbled into the hotel last night. “Well that’s not a huge problem. C’mon, I’ll let you back in.”

“Gracias,” Alejandro says, dipping his head ever so slightly. He falls into step beside Faraday as he crosses the restaurant floor and heads in the direction of the elevator.

As they’re waiting for the elevator to arrive, Faraday bouncing up and down a little as he tries to work off some sudden excess energy, Alejandro’s phone dings in his pocket. Faraday turns to look at him and doesn’t miss the way he frowns down at the screen after he’s fished it out and clicked it open.

“That another relative?” Faraday asks as Alejandro begins tapping rapidly on the touchscreen, obviously agitated over something.

“I don’t have relatives,” Alejandro says absently, and then he freezes. “I mean,” he starts, looking up and meeting Faraday’s confused gaze. “It’s complicated,” he says finally. “My family is gone, so I found a new one.”

Faraday winces. He can relate to the first part of that sentence, but he hasn’t been lucky enough to build a family of his own since it’s just been him. “Sorry to hear that,” he says awkwardly, not really knowing what else to say.

Looking equally awkward, Alejandro shrugs and returns his attention to his phone. “It was a long time ago,” he says gruffly. “I’ve learned to deal with it.”

For the first time in a while, Faraday feels the urge to share some of his own history with another person. It’s ridiculous, especially since he’s known Alejandro for less than twenty four hours, with the extent of his knowledge being that the man eats like a horse, has some serious family issues, and is a terrific lay. That’s hardly enough of a foundation to start swapping deep emotional baggage over.

Stomping down heavily on the urge, Faraday remains silent until the elevator arrives and he stays that way once they’re inside it. Alejandro is still furiously typing away on his phone, and Faraday suspects disturbing him would not be a good idea.

Alejandro stops typing as Faraday keys the lock on the door and ushers him inside. He gives a small nod of thanks and moves to where his jacket is resting atop one of the room’s chairs. Once there, however, he pauses and lays his phone down on the leather fabric.

“Do you mind if I?” He jerks his head in the direction of the bathroom, his meaning plain.

“Go for it,” Faraday tells him, waving a hand lazily. “I’ve got no pressin’ need for it myself and I’m not in a hurry to kick you out.”

Alejandro flashes him a smile and disappears into the bathroom, the door snapping shut behind him.

Almost against his will, Faraday finds his gaze landing on where the man’s phone is still sitting on the desk, blinking cheerfully up at him. There’s a text message from someone named Sam lighting up the screen, but Faraday sternly tells himself not to read any further than that because it’d be rude.

He’s not sure how one might classify the way he grabs the phone and punches his own number into the contacts list, sending himself a text in the process, but he figures if Alejandro doesn’t want to hear from him again then he can just ignore him.

*****

It’s around noon by the time Vasquez makes his way back the farmhouse. Although he’d left Joshua back in his hotel room sometime around ten o’clock, he’d been in no hurry to get home and had chosen to spend over an hour wandering through the downtown area in an attempt to amuse himself. It hadn’t worked, but nor had he expected it to.

Sam’s waiting for him on the front porch when he pulls up, no doubt having heard the sound of the car long before he’d come into view of the house, and for a man who’s never had any children of his own, he looks remarkably like an unimpressed parent who’s just caught a teenager sneaking in after curfew. Unwilling to be cowed into submission, Vasquez squares his shoulders and meets the older man’s gaze head on.

“Morning,” he says as pleasantly as he can.

“Not hardly,” Sam replies with the snort. “The clock struck twelve at least seven minutes past.”

“Afternoon, then.” Vasquez tries. He doesn’t want to get in another fight with Sam if he can avoid it, but he’s willing to if the man pushes him.

Sam continues to look unimpressed, his expression only shifting slightly with the raise of an eyebrow when Vasquez gets closer. “Do you know what you smell like right now?”

This time it’s Vasquez’s turn to snort. Considering how he’s wearing last night’s clothes and hadn’t bothered to shower when he’d made use of Joshua’s bathroom, he knows exactly what he must smell like. He’s just got no desire to hide it.

“I went out and had fun,” he says simply. “Harmless fun.”

Sam sighs, scrubbing a hand over his short, dark curls as his exasperation fades and is replaced by something wearier, more tired. “Vasquez,” he starts, only to pause and visibly regroup. “Look,” he says finally, “I’m not here to tell you how to live your life. What you do is your business, and it’s not fair of me to judge.”

That’s news to Vasquez, who feels like Sam’s been doing nothing but judge him for weeks now. Though, if he’s being honest, a large part of that is no doubt stemming from the tension ramping up as they all increasingly get on each other’s nerves. Weres might be meant to live in a pack, but even they needed their space from time to time. Sam’s no more immune to that than Vasquez himself is.

Deciding to place nice, he tunes back in to Sam’s meandering diatribe – he’s a good leader is Sam Chisolm, but he can’t just get to the point of something to save his life – and puts on his most attentive face.

“I just want you to be careful,” Sam says in conclusion. “Not even for our sakes, although it’d be nice if you’d keep that in mind too, but for your own. We still don’t know what might be coming our way now and you stomping out of here and pulling a disappearing act in the middle of the night doesn’t sit well with me. Can you at least do me a favor and damn well call if you’re not coming home?”

Vasquez wants to bristle at the notion that he’s a child who needs minding, but he makes himself hold back. He’s well aware that Sam’s under the most pressure of all of them, and while that’s not going to stop him from lashing out from time to time, he supposes he can play nice when necessary.

“Fine,” he says, keeping his tone light. “But if you hear something you don’t want to when I do that, it’s not my fault.”

Sam grimaces. “I suppose I should have expected that. God but you’re an ass when you want to be.”

Vasquez gives him his most winning smile and spread his arms wide. “Don’t forget, you’re the one who dragged me into this little adventure in the first place, amigo. I was quite happy keeping my head down all by my lonesome until you came along and ruined it all.”

Sam gives him a long look. “No, you weren’t.”

No, he wasn’t, Vasquez agrees, but he’d rather chew off his own tail than admit as much. “You can prove nothing,” he says loftily.

Rolling his eyes, Sam takes a step back and gestures for Vasquez to precede him into the house. “I can prove whatever I damn well want to prove.” He claps a hand on Vasquez’s shoulder as he passes him and adds, “Also, I would head for a shower right away. I can smell the fella you spent the night with on you, and the others will be able to too.”

Vasquez has a sneaking suspicion Joshua would approve of this, as he’d certainly seemed like the type. He keeps that thought to himself, however, and merely flashes Sam a grin in response.

Once inside the house he makes a beeline for his room and the half bath attached to it. Kicking off his shoes, he starts ditching the rest of his clothing, getting suddenly startled when his phone buzzes in his pants pocket. He’s assuming the rest of the pack are home, and he doesn’t know why any of them would be texting him at this point.

He doesn’t recognize the number that flashes up on the screen, but the accompanying message manages to do away with any confusion.

 _If breakfast wasn’t to your satisfaction then you should consider letting me try again._ Vasquez laughs in spite of himself, and chews absently on his lip while he decides if he wants to reply.

Before he’s reached a decision, a second message comes in. _Or you can feel free to ignore this message. I’m well aware stealing a man’s phone, however briefly, isn’t the best way to score a date._

Vasquez laughs again, louder this time. _At least you’re honest, guero_ , he responds.

 _Is that how you spell that?_ Joshua sends back. _Explains why google couldn’t find it. Never figured there was a fucking g in it._

Leaning back against the countertop, Vasquez bites down on his lip in an attempt to keep any more laughter from coming out. _Spanish can be tricky like that_.

_Ain’t it just, but you still haven’t answered my question. How about it, dinner tonight?_

Vasquez pauses. He’s not opposed to seeing Joshua again, otherwise he wouldn’t be having this conversation, but he suspects Sam might just sit on him on principle if he tries to go anywhere else today after last night. He stares at his phone for a few seconds, and then shrugs.

 _Not tonight_. He types out. _Tomorrow, and I pick where we go._

_Works for me. Just tell me where to meet you._

Vasquez figures he can take some time to ponder that, so he thumbs his phone off and rests it on the counter near the bathroom sink. Stripping free of the rest of his clothes, he twists the tap for the shower faucet and goes to stand under the spray.

*****

“Where in the hell have you brought me?” Joshua asks he climbs out of his car. Vasquez had seen him pull up in the parking lot and wandered over to meet him. As he watches, Joshua pulls of his sunglasses and peers up at the restaurant sign in concern. “This looks like a diner, Alejandro. I’ve eaten a lot of diner food in my life, man, and most of it tastes like death.”

“Then you’ve clearly been eating the wrong diner food, guero,” Vasquez informs him. “Come on.” He grabs Joshua by the elbow when the man continues to look reluctant and begins dragging him towards the entrance to Maria’s.

Joshua shakes free of his grip when they get inside, and peers around, his interest obviously caught. “Doesn’t look like much,” he says finally.

Vasquez hushes him. “If anyone hears you say that they won’t feed us, and if you make me have to find somewhere else to eat I’m going to be doing it by myself.”

Raising his hands in surrender, Joshua mimes zipping his lips shut and doesn’t say anything else.

“Beuno,” Vasquez tells him. He heads off in the direction of the back of the diner, always preferring to sit there so he can see anyone who comes in, and settles down in a corner booth. Joshua glances back and forth between the booth and the entrance, wrinkling his nose for some reason Vasquez can’t fathom, before dropping down in the seat across from him.

“You come here often?” He asks, picking up a menu and beginning to rifle through it.

“Often enough. My roommate found it a while back,” he adds, in this case referring to Billy, who’d stumbled upon the place on one of the few occasions he’d managed to convince Goodnight to leave the relative safety of the house. “I’m the one who keeps coming back though.”

“Huh,” Joshua says. “Alright then. What’s worth eating?”

“Whatever you choose,” Vasquez tells him, and means it. At this point he’s sampled plenty of what’s on the menu and what he hasn’t other members of the pack have – Red and Teddy in particular having attacked the place with gusto.

“Well, that narrows it down,” Joshua mutters. “What’re you havin’?”

“Probably just a burger and fries.”

“Hmm, makes sense seein’ as it’s hard to mess that up. I guess I’ll do the same.” He folds the menu shut with a snap and lays it down on top of the one Vasquez had never bothered to open. “This place have a liquor license?”

“It does,” Vasquez confirms, and Joshua grins at this.

“That’s a point in its favor, sure enough.” He smiles up at Maria the owner as she wanders over, pulling a pen and pad out of her apron pocket as she comes. “Evenin’, Ma’am.”

Maria turns and raises and eyebrow at Vasquez, asking ‘Where the hell did you find him?’ as obviously as if she’d said it aloud. He shoots her a grin in return and doesn’t answer.

Huffing, she flips the notepad open. “Okay, boys. What’ll it be?”

They place their orders and Maria bustles off as quickly as she’d arrived, ducking behind the main counter and heading for the kitchen out back.

“Friend of yours?” Joshua asks as he watches her go.

Vasquez shrugs. “Not really, but I’ve been here enough times for her to recognize me.” Truth be told Maria had that knack found among small restaurant owners across the globe for only needing to have a customer once before she remembered them. Most of the pack found it useful when it came to getting the food they were after, though Goodnight found it somewhat unnerving and tended to steer clear of her.

Granted, Goodnight found most things unnerving these days.

A pair of fingers snap suddenly in his face. Startled, Vasquez focuses his attention on Joshua, who gives him a look. “You went away for a second there, big guy. Am I borin’ you already?”

Shaking his head to clear out the unwanted thoughts, Vasquez flashes him a tight smile. “Not yet, guero, but we’ll see how things go, yes?”

“That,” Joshua says pointedly, “sounds like a challenge.”

Vasquez shrugs. “You intrigued me enough to convince me to come out here tonight. Do with that what you will.”

Joshua narrows his eyes and gives Vasquez a searching look. “So I’m intriguin’, am I? Y’know, I had a thought when I first saw you the other night that you were lookin’ for something new to do. Guess I was right.”

Vasquez isn’t sure at first if he likes that Joshua was able to read that off him, but then he thinks it over and decides he doesn’t much care. If he’s being honest, he thinks he’d gotten the same vibe off Joshua, which means they’re in the same boat – with both of them wanting to try something new and probably not sure how to do it.

“Alright,” he says then, leaning forward and resting his hands on the table. “Here’s what I know about you. You have a job you can’t discuss, a tendency to pick up strange men in bars and then feed them breakfast the next morning, and you think stealing someone’s phone is a good way to make contact after a one-night stand.” And your mother’s dead, he doesn’t add, remembering Joshua’s crack about needing a ouija board to speak with her.

“I can’t say it’s very much to go on.”

Joshua snorts. “Like you’re any better.” He mirrors Vasquez’s position and holds up a corresponding finger for each point he makes. “You have a not-family that you’re clearly fond of even if they annoy you, you have at least one roommate, you let strange men pick you up in bars and feed you breakfast the next morning, and for some reason you don’t head for the hills when someone uses less than appropriate means to get a hold of you.”

He starts to fold his fingers down again and then stops. “Wait, I forgot. You also go by your last name because you don’t like how people never bother to learn to say the first one properly.”

Vasquez eyes him thoughtfully. “You’re more perceptive than you look. Most people don’t pick up on that last one.”

“Most people didn’t see your face when I mangled it in the bar the other night.” Joshua replies. He looks down at the fingers of his left hand, all of which are still splayed out after he’d used them to illustrate his collection of facts. “Looks like I’m five points to your three. Care to even the score?”

“Hmm,” drumming his fingers on the edge of the table, Vasquez considers the offer. “And you’ll tell me anything I want to know?”

“I mean, within reason.” Joshua finally folds his fingers down and rests his hand in his lap. “I ain’t about to spill my whole life story if that’s what you’re after.”

“Who is?” Vasquez wonders. Then he shakes his head. “Fine. Uh, you have any family of your own?”

He almost kicks himself for letting that one slip out, but if Joshua’s bothered by the question he does a fantastic job of hiding it. “None,” he says easily. “Only child and raised by a single mother who passed away a few years back.”

Vasquez winces. That was definitely not the best question to have asked. “I’m sorry.”

Joshua waves away his apology with an airy hand. “Don’t be, I’ve made my peace with it. Didn’t have much choice in the matter, anyway.”

“Well … no.” Vasquez says, unsure of the best way to respond. He searches for something less likely to be fraught with emotion, but all he can come up with is, “Last time you were on a date?”

Joshua snickers. “I think, given the way we are crashin’ and burnin’ so far, that it’s safe to say _neither_ of us has done this in a while. Or are you gonna deny it?”

Vasquez grins, and suddenly the atmosphere between them is much more relaxed. “No, guero, I’m not going to do that. It’s been a long time for me too.”

*****

Their food arrives soon after that, bringing with it another topic to focus on.

“Holy shit,” Joshua says after he takes his first bite. “I owe you an apology, this ain’t half bad.”

“Told you so,” Vasquez says as soon as he’s chewed and swallowed the food in his mouth. “It’s the same for anything on the menu. All of it’s worth eating.”

“I’ll be sure to come back some day after work.” Joshua decides, taking another bite.

His comment reminds Vasquez that Joshua’s presence in the town is only temporary, and that at some point, probably sooner rather than later, he’ll be gone again. Unlike the first time he’d had that realization, however, it doesn’t sit so well with him.

“S’matter,” Joshua asks around the burger he still hasn’t put down. “You’re makin’ that frowny face from earlier again.”

“Just admiring your table manners,” Vasquez claims, rather than admit what he’d actually been thinking about.

Instead of looking suitably chastised, Joshua sticks his tongue out at him, laughing when Vasquez rolls his eyes.

“You are a child,” Vasquez grumbles.

“I’m just young at heart,” Joshua counters.

“Translation: a _child_.”

Joshua laughs, unperturbed, and swipes at a dash of ketchup he’s managed to smear across his chin. “Because you’re so much more mature than me.”

“I’ve yet to see any evidence to the contrary,” Vasquez says primly.

“Uh huh. Hey,” Joshua suddenly gestures at him with his half-eaten burger. “What do you do for a livin’? You never said.”

“Farmhand,” Vasquez says flatly, and then immediately takes a large bite of his own meal so he doesn’t have to say anything further.

Joshua blinks. “Seriously?” He blinks again when Vasquez nods. “Huh. I would not have guessed that one in a million years. So, what, you wrestle barnyard animals for a living or somethin’?”

Vasquez has a sudden, horrifying mental image of most of his packmates set loose on a farm with food animals roaming around it and has to fight back a shudder. “No,” he says firmly. “It’s a produce farm. Just field work mostly.”

“Nope, still can’t picture it,” Joshua decides. “But, hey, props to you if it’s what you use to get by.”

Since he can’t clarify just who it is who’s using the farm to get by, Vasquez chooses instead to salute him with his beer in lieu of saying anything.

They polish off their respective meals not long after that, each of them taking care of their own bills, and that’s when things get awkward again. Vasquez already knows he wants to see Joshua again, just like he’s all but certain Joshua wants the same thing, what he doesn’t know is how to say that, or what he’s supposed to do now.

“This is ridiculous, isn’t it?” Joshua says after they spent longer than is reasonable eyeing each other in the parking lot. “How do you feel about movies?”

“Movies?” Vasquez repeats.

“Yeah, you know, it’s like an extra long tv show where the whole story is usually shrunk down into one viewin’.” Joshua snickers at Vasquez’s expression because he’s apparently under the delusion that he’s funny. “Come on, you left that one wide open.”

Vasquez sniffs at him and he gets his giggles under control. “Fine, fine, you’re such a spoilsport. But, really, how do you feel about hittin’ up a theatre and takin’ in a movie?”

“Tonight?” Vasquez asks, stalling for time.

“Nah,” Joshua decides. “I’m workin’ off a list of comin’ of age datin’ movies here, and it’s only so long. I’ve got to stretch things out. Plus, I’ve got to work tomorrow night and then one after. How about Saturday?”

Vasquez chews on his bottom lip as he considers this. It’s not that he has a problem with movies, those he likes just fine. Theatres, on the other hand, are a different story. The surround sound system tends to bother his ears no matter what shape he’s in and leave him with a headache.

However, Joshua’s still looking at him expectantly, and Vasquez finds that whatever it is that’s been drawing him to the man is still there and is still pushing him to keep coming back. “I could do Saturday, but you’d better feed me.”

“I’ll get you the biggest bucket of popcorn I can find,” Joshua promises, and then he surprises Vasquez by leaning forward and stealing the quickest kiss in the history of mankind.

“Popcorn isn’t real food,” Vasquez grumbles, reaching out and hauling Joshua in again, “and get back here and do that properly.”

Joshua laughs, but does as he’s told.

*****

Faraday’s still kicking himself when he pulls up in the parking lot of his hotel.

“A movie, Joshua? Seriously?” He says as he pulls the key out of the ignition and moves to climb out of the car. “You somehow manage to get the attention of the hottest man on the planet, and you offer to take him to a movie? What is this, fuckin’ grade school?” He’s positive that wherever his Ma may be right now, she’s laughing at him.

Grumbling he wanders into the hotel and gives the two night staff members who’ve gotten stuck manning the desk an aborted wave. One of them nods his head back in greeting, but the other doesn’t even look up from her computer screen.

“Honestly,” he says, continuing to talk to himself when he’s retained the relative privacy of the elevator. “There’s got to be somethin’ better in this town I could convince him to try.” Never mind the fact that he’s here on business, and only temporarily at that. He likes Alejandro and intends to keep seeing him for as long as the other man will let him.

Stepping out of the elevator on the appropriate floor, he heads towards his own room and freezes. The door is slightly ajar, with light from inside shining through the crack. Even though he doubts anyone would open the door and turn a light on for him while trying to hide their presence, Faraday still crouches down and pulls the lone gun he has on him out of his ankle holster. Mission accomplished, he straightens up and quietly nudges the door open.

“Jesus fuck, McCann. What the hell are you doin’ here?” Glaring at Bogue’s head of security and all round unpleasant human being, Faraday stuffs the gun into the waistband of his jeans and moves the rest of the way into the room. “I don’t remember extendin’ you an invitation.”

“I don’t need an invitation to come get an update from you, Faraday.” McCann growls from where he’s sitting in the room’s most comfortable armchair.

Faraday sighs and manfully resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. As much as he hates McCann – and lord does he hate him – he’s wary enough of Bart Bogue to be careful of what he lets show around him and his men. Which is why he keeps his tone as civil as possible when he opens his mouth and says, “I’ve told you before, I’ve done everything I can to find these so-called wolves of yours, and I’ve had no luck. Until they show their faces, we’re stuck.”

McCann scowls. “That’s not good enough. The boss is paying you for results, not so that you can sit around on your ass all day. I don’t care how many pretty traps you’ve set up over at the development.”

Shrugging, Faraday pulls off his coat and drops it on the desk, doing his best to look unconcerned. “If Bogue doesn’t like the way I work, he’s welcome to fire me. Otherwise I aim to see this job through.”

“You don’t tell the boss what do,” McCann snaps.

Faraday rolls his eyes. “I’m aware of that, thanks. Now,” he adds pointedly, gesturing towards the door, “I’ve had quite an enjoyable evenin’, but your presence is startin’ to negate that. I’m afraid I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

McCann raises an eyebrow. “What’d you do, go out and find yourself a hooker?”

“Why am I not surprised that’s where your mind went?” Faraday asks, rolling his eyes again. He wishes he could say he was surprised, but nothing McCann’s said or done during their acquaintance has indicated he’s not a shit human being. Unfortunately for Faraday, he happens to be a shit human being he’s stuck working with for the foreseeable future.

Now it’s McCann’s turn to shrug, as he gives Faraday the kind of smarmy grin he’d like to punch of his face. “What can I say? I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

“Uh huh,” Faraday says, not bothering to hide how unimpressed he is. “You think whatever makes you happy, I guess, but kindly do it away from me.” He studiously doesn’t mention anything to do with Alejandro, determined to keep that much to himself.

McCann snorts, unimpressed, but at least has the common decency to push himself up out of Faraday’s chair. “Get some results, Faraday. If not, there’s going to be trouble.”

His back is to Faraday when he says this, so Faraday doesn’t even try not to roll his eyes. He waits until McCann’s out of the room, and then crosses to the door and locks it behind him. Then he turns around and surveys what possessions he has in the room. He doesn’t think he’s imagining that one of his bags has been rifled through.

“Fuckin’ idiot,” he mutters. He’s not surprised Bogue’s sent someone to check up on him, but if the man honestly thinks Faraday would keep anything important lying around in a room paid for by an employer whom he doesn’t entirely trust, he is sorely mistaken. Faraday’s got a storage locker rented halfway across town that has all his essential gear tied up in it.

Grumbling, he starts going through the motions of winding down for the night. He’s got no intention of doing any work tonight  - he hadn’t been kidding when he said there wasn’t much he could do until the wolves showed their faces, and he’s already scheduled to do some stuff over at Bogue’s main base of operations tomorrow. As such, he sees no reason not to take it easy now.

His phone buzzes from where he’s left it on the nightstand as he’s hauling on a pair of shorts to sleep in. Surprised, he picks it up and finds that Alejandro’s texting him.

_Got home just in time to walk in on a domestic spat over how much cyan pepper is too much cyan pepper. Why._

Faraday laughs and wonders what the hell he’s supposed to do with this. _The correct answer is “any”._ He sends back.

_:((( very sad, guero. You hurt me._

_Not my fault you’ve got shitty taste buds._

_Starting to regret telling you to feed me on Saturday._

_What? One thing of popcorn not enough for you? Okay, I’ll make it two._

_Ugh._

*****

“What’cha doing?”

Startled, Vasquez comes very close to stabbing himself in the eye with the comb he’s just been about to run through his hair. Whirling around, he gives serious thought to tossing the nearest heavy object at Teddy’s head, and only resists because he doesn’t want another lecture from Sam about how they all need to get along.

“What’re you doing in my room, brat?” He growls through clenched teeth. “Shouldn’t you be off fighting with Red over something?”

“He’s asleep in the living room,” Teddy says, sounding bored.

“And you’re being respectful of that?” Vasquez asks dubiously.

Teddy shrugs. “Only because Emma’s in there too.”

“Ah.” Clarification received, Vasquez cocks his head and watches in annoyance as Teddy wanders all the way into his room and sits down on the edge of his bed. “Can I assume you’ve decided to come bother me since you can’t get to Red?”

Teddy shrugs again, looking every inch the disaffected teenager he occasionally pretends to be. “You can if you want.”

“What do you want?” Vasquez asks, exasperated. He checks the clock on his phone, relieved to see he has plenty of time to spare, but at the same time unwilling to humour whatever game Teddy’s currently playing. “I can’t imagine you need something from me.”

“I just wanna know what you’re doing,” Teddy says, bouncing a little on the bed. “You look like you’re going somewhere.”

“That would be because I am.” Vasquez says, turning back to the mirror. He thinks he looks fine, but what does he know?

“Where’re you going?”

“Out?”

“Can I come?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Who’re you going with?”

“No one you know.”

Teddy whines at this. “Come onnn, who?”

Vasquez huffs. “No one you know, alright?”

“That still doesn’t tell me who.”

“Ugh,” Vasquez rolls his eyes towards the ceiling and says a quiet prayer for patience. “I’m going out with a friend. Can we just leave it at that?”

He focuses his eyes back on Teddy, just in time to see the young were wrinkle his nose in confusion. “You don’t have friends.”

Thanks, Teddy.

Vasquez briefly considers killing the runt and burying his body in the backyard, but he calculates the odds of Sam letting him getting away with this as being lower than he’s comfortable with. Maybe he can get away with a little maiming instead? He could probably blame any bite marks on Red.

Figuring he’s as ready as he’s going to get, he grabs his coat up off the bed where it’s been laying scant inches away from Teddy’s still bouncing form and shrugs it on. “You are not staying in here while I’m gone,” he says as he adjusts the collar.

Sighing, Teddy drags his body into a standing position, pouting at Vasquez as he goes. “How come you get to go out and I don’t?”

“Because I’m twice your age,” Vasquez says, ushering him out and closing the door behind them both.

“So, what? Because you’re old you get to have fun? Who made that rule?”

“I am not old, niño,” Vasquez snaps, even though most conversations with Teddy tend to leave him feeling exactly that.

Teddy makes a disbelieving noise, but Vasquez ignores him in favor of making his way down the stairs so that he can grab his boots and get the hell out of here.

He’s just got the second boot on when Sam materializes seemingly out of nowhere, his Strong Paternal Figure expression firmly in place.

Vasquez cuts him off at the pass. “Yes, I am going out. Yes, I am going out with the same person as before. No, I do not know if I’ll be home tonight. Yes, I will let someone know if I decide not to come home. Have I covered everything?”

Sam gives him a pointed look. “This person you keep seeing, he’s not a were.”

“Really?” Vasquez asks, widening his eyes and pitching his voice dramatically. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Just be careful,” Sam says with a sigh. “Not everyone is well equipped to deal with us.”

“I’m planning to sleep with him, Sam, not marry him.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “And on that note, please go away.”

Vasquez grins, gives him a mocking salute, and does as he’s told.

*****

If Vasquez had thought Joshua was kidding with all his jokes about supplying popcorn he is sadly mistaken. When he arrives at the theatre the man in question gives him a teasing grin and a bag of the stuff roughly the side of his own head.

“You do realize this isn’t even real food, don’t you?” Vasquez says as he accepts the bag in question.

Joshua’s grin widens slightly. “I’ve seen you eat, big guy. You ain’t exactly lackin’ an appetite. I’d bet solid money you can finish that off without my help.”

Which was true, werewolves as a whole had hearty appetites thanks to the energy shifting back and forth took out of them. However, that didn’t mean he had an affinity to what essentially amounted to butter covered cardboard and he says as much.

Thankfully Joshua’s not offended at all. “That just means there’s more for me then.”

Vasquez snorts. “I’m starting to think that was your plan all along.”

“I’ll never tell. Come on, it’s this way.” Gesturing with his newly reclaimed snack, Joshua indicates that Vasquez should follow him and leads him towards the theatre proper, flashing a set of ticket stubs at a bored looking teenager as he goes.

Vasquez frowns. “We could have split the cost, guero,” he says, annoyed at himself for not having suggested it sooner.

Joshua waves his free hand airily. “I ain’t worried.” He turns and gives Vasquez a smirk over his shoulder. “I figure you can find some way to make it up to me.”

Vasquez just gazes back at him unperturbed. “You, guero,” he says firmly, “are the kind of boy mothers warn about.”

“And don’t you forget it, sweetheart,” Joshua replies with a wink.

*****

The movie is … well it’s a movie, one with a lot of explosions and car chases and the like. Vasquez has nothing against any of those things normally, but as he’d feared when he’d first agreed to this the noise quickly sets a headache rising thanks to the heavy beats stemming from the surround sound. He shifts in his seat, trying to get as comfortable as he can, and wonders if there’s anything he can do to muffle the noise.

Joshua doesn’t seem to notice anything’s amiss, seemingly content to munch happily on his snack, occasionally nudging Vasquez with his shoulder when something he particularly approves of happens on screen.

Trying to block out the noise works about as well as Vasquez expects it to, which is to say it doesn’t work at all. Eventually one particularly violent set of explosions goes off onscreen, and Vasquez doesn’t quite manage to bite back a pained sound as the noise sets his temples throbbing. He brings his hands up – although to do what he doesn’t know – and is surprised to say the least when Joshua’s fingers get there first.

“You okay?” He asks. Vasquez has no idea how he’d managed to hear anything over the film, but hear it he did and now he’s frowning at Vasquez in concern and carding large fingers through his hair.

“Headache,” Vasquez grits out, seeing no point in lying. “Just came out of nowhere.”

Joshua makes a sympathetic sound and stuffs the remainder of his popcorn behind him in his seat. “Shit, that sucks. Do you need to get out of here?”

Vasquez has every intention of saying no and suffering through until the end, but the movie love interest chooses this moment to let out a particularly harrowing shriek that has him clenching his teeth as it reverberates around the inside of his skull.

“Oh, yeah,” Joshua decides, “you need to get out of here.”

“It’s fine,” Vasquez tries to say – he has a sneaking suspicion he’s never going to hear the end of it if he lets the night end this way – but Joshua ignores him in favour of scooping up both their coats and heading for the exit. In the end Vasquez has no choice but to follow him since both his wallet and his keys are in his coat pockets.

“You forgot your popcorn,” he grumbles as they make their way down the hall.

“No,” Joshua disagrees. “Forgettin’ would imply I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Vasquez is considering a smartass response of his own, only they emerge out into the theatre proper at this exact moment and the harsh fluorescent lighting sends a stab of agony right through his brain. “Fuck,” he swears, clutching his head and using all his available willpower not to double over in pain.

“Fuck indeed,” Joshua says beside him. He comes around and peers up at Vasquez in concern. “You’ve got a full blown migraine don’t you?”

“Not yet,” Vasquez mumbles, his teeth still clenched. He knows from experience this can still get worse.

“Then you’re about to,” Joshua corrects himself. He hooks and arm through Vasquez’s, surprisingly gentle, and starts towing him towards the exit. “Come on, you need drugs and to get your head down.”

Vasquez can’t argue with that. Unfortunately, he’s got a longer than he’d like drive ahead of him before he can get to either of those things. When he says as much to Joshua, the other man scoffs. “You ain’t drivin’ right now. Chances are good you’d wrap your car around a tree or a lamppost or somethin’, and then where would be? I’d be out a perfectly good lay for no reason.”

“Your concern is touching, guero,” Vasquez says as dryly as he can. He tugs at Joshua’s arm. “And my car is the other way.”

Joshua tugs back more insistently. “But my place is this way.” He flushes a little when Vasquez turns a pair of raised eyebrows on him, but manages to look resolute as he juts his chin out stubbornly. “Jokes aside, you shouldn’t drive like this. You can come back with me and sleep it off a little, or, if you really want to go home, we can take my car and I’ll drive you.”

There’s no way Vasquez is letting that second option happen – Sam might just kill Joshua out of deemed necessity and then Vasquez on principle – so he graciously, or at least graciously for him, allows himself to be hauled along for the short walk it takes them to reach Joshua’s hotel. “You’re being ridiculous,” he grumbles while they wait for the elevator to arrive.

Joshua snorts lowly. “I’d be more willin’ to agree with you if you hadn’t had your eyes closed since we’ve been standin’ here. Also, you’re about as pale as I am right now, so I reckon it’s safe to say you feel like crap.”

Vasquez is saved from having to reply by the soft ding of the elevator, and when even that small chime is enough to make him wince he supposes Joshua has a point.

“You get these often?” Joshua asks as he hustles Vasquez inside his room.

“No.” Vasquez says truthfully. He was normally much better at avoiding things he knew would set one off, after all.

“Right, well, sit down and I’ll see if I can find you some Advil. I know I’ve got some around here somewhere.”

It was probably too late, and he’s need a suspicious amount of pills before they’d have any effect on him, but Vasquez lets him do what he wants, choosing to sit with his head in his hands instead, rubbing at his temples while Joshua rummages through a series of bags he’s apparently never bothered to unpack.

“Got ‘em,” Joshua says a few minutes later, and two while pill capsules appear in Vasquez’s line of vision as he holds one large hand out to him.

Vasquez takes them without a word, swallowing them down dry as easy as you please. Joshua lets out a scolding sound and shakes something else at him. “Jesus, you animal. I brought water too, y’know.”

“Too late.” Vasquez replies with a shrug.

“Obviously,” Joshua grouses, but he moves to press the glass into Vasquez’s hand. “Drink it anyway, it might help. Sometimes headaches are caused by dehydration.”

And sometimes they were caused by a series of obscenely loud noises that he should have known better to avoid, Vasquez doesn’t say. He takes the water and sips it slowly, twitching a little under Joshua’s watchful eye. “I’m not going to keel over and die on you, guero.”

“You say that now,” Joshua replies archly. He sits down on the bed and continues watching Vasquez like he thinks he might do something interesting, like faint. “So, I hope you realize this means I have to try again, right? Because you keep winning?”

“Que? What?” Vasquez mumbles. His head hurts too much to follow whatever Joshua’s saying. “Who’s winning what?”

“Never mind. We’ll talk about it when you’re functional again,” Joshua says, and Vasquez is grateful for that. He’s not up to following whatever logic Joshua is working with right now.

“I think,” he says slowly, “that I might take you up on your offer to lay down.”

“Finish the water and you can,” Joshua says, before adding, “and if you’re real nice I’ll blow you.”

Vasquez pauses with his drink halfway to his mouth. “What?”

Joshua snickers and waggles his eyebrows. “One of the best cures for a headache is an orgasm. Honest to God.”

Vasquez stares at him for several long moments. “I hate you,” he says finally.

Joshua shrugs, completely unrepentant.

When Vasquez wakes up several hours later it’s because his phone is going off on the bedside table near his head. He’d thankfully had the foresight to set it to vibrate before going to the movies, meaning he’s the only one it’s woken up so far, and when he grabs it he sees it’s Emma calling him. It seems Sam has gotten fed up and decided to bring in the big guns.

Rolling his eyes at the screen, Vasquez hits the decline button, cutting off the call mid-buzz. Then, before it can start up again, he sends her a quick text saying he’s staying where he is, thank you very much. In return, Emma’s response is brief and not fit for polite company.

Snorting, he puts the phone back on the table and takes stock of his surroundings. He knows from having glanced at the clock that it’s just after three in the morning, which explains why Emma had been looking for him, and he can tell Joshua’s sacked out next to him, snoring faintly.

Vasquez supposes he could head home if he really wanted to – his head is fine now and there’s no reason he shouldn’t drive – but Joshua’s a warm, comfortable weight behind him, and he feels pleasantly drowsy in a way that makes him not want to move. Settling back down among the bedcovers he reaches up to trail the fingers of one hand lightly along Joshua’s cheek and decides he’s not moving until he has to.

*****

Alejandro’s sound asleep when Faraday blinks awake in the early morning sunlight. Even better, the tight frown and pinched look around his eyes from the night before have vanished. Hopefully that means he’s slept off the worst of the headache after it’d hit him out of nowhere.

Propping himself up on one elbow, Faraday rests his chin on the palm of his hand and gazes down at the other man as his chest slowly rises and falls with each breath he takes. He could get used to this, he realizes, waking up day in and day out next to someone whose company he genuinely enjoys.

Frowning, he shakes his head and moves to cut that thought off at the pass. He’s barely known Alejandro for a week, and the odds of their having a real future together are slim to none. It’s one thing for him to keep seeing the man before things get serious, but it’s entirely another to fall into the trap of thinking he can create something long-lasting here.

Eventually, Alejandro’s eyes flutter open, and he gives Faraday a confused look. “You know watching someone sleep isn’t normal, don’t you?” He asks around a yawn.

Faraday huffs out a laugh. “I thought about wakin’ you, but I figured you wouldn’t appreciate it if you still had that headache. Don’t think I’ve ever seen someone get hit that hard by one before.”

Alejandro gives him a wan smile. “I guess I’m just lucky that way. Don’t worry, though, it’s long gone. I woke up around three for a little while, and I was already fine by then.”

“Gotcha,” Faraday says. He tilts his head down and brushes a kiss on Alejandro’s bare shoulder. “Glad to hear you’re feelin’ better.”

Alejandro stretches, the motion causing his entire body to flex enticingly, and then he shifts up so that he can snag Faraday’s mouth in a kiss. He needs to brush his teeth, but Faraday figures the same could probably be said of him so he decides to ignore this in favour of deepening the kiss and licking his way into Alejandro’s mouth, feeling pleased when this elicits a groan from the other man.

“You know,” Alejandro murmurs when Faraday pulls back, “I seem to remember you offering to put your mouth to better use last night.”

There’s a wicked gleam in his eye, and Faraday throws his head back as he laughs. “Fuckin’ minx,” he says fondly, and then it’s Alejandro’s turn to laugh as a wild cackle is startled out of him.

“Oh, dios mio, can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before.”

Faraday shrugs, still chuckling. “What can I say? I like to keep things interestin’.”

Alejandro grins up at him. “And you’re very good at it,” he agrees, “but what about my question? Are you a man of your word, guero?” He punctuates his question with a languid kick that knocks the bedcovers askew and reminds Faraday that both of them had gone to sleep in nothing but their underwear last night.

“I am definitely,” Faraday says slowly, “a man of my word.” Humming to himself he shuffles over until he can prop himself up with either of his arms bracketing Alejandro’s body and moves to straddle the other man’s waist. “The question is, is my mouth all you want?”

Alejandro makes a show of thinking about this, and then he shrugs as best he can with Faraday’s considerable bulk pinning him down. “I could do with some breakfast.”

Faraday pinches him in the side, but all this earns him is another round of hooting laughter. “Fucker,” Faraday says, even though he’s laughing too. “But, alright, fine. We’ll get you some food. I’ll even shell out and take you to Maria’s since I know how you feel about the stuff they have here.”

Now Alejandro rolls his eyes. “There is nothing wrong with the food here, though I will not say no if you’re giving me a better option. First, however,” he trails off and bucks his hips up to make his desire clear.

Faraday grins. “Anythin’ for you, sweetheart.”

*****

Vasquez is working his way through a stack of Maria’s homemade pancakes when a memory from the night before sparks in his brain. “Guero?” He asks after he’s swallowed the latest forkful of his breakfast.

“Hm?” Joshua asks, voice muffled. He’s seated directly across from Vasquez and is going to town on a similarly large batch of pancakes.

“What did you mean when you said I keep winning last night?” Vasquez hadn’t understood the point then, and even with his head on straight again he doesn’t understand it now.

“Oh, that.” Joshua says. He swipes at a dash of syrup that’s currently adorning his bottom lip, licking it off his thumb once he’s gotten it. “You’ve been out-datin’ me, and I can’t have that.”

“I’ve been what?” Vasquez asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Out-datin’ me,” Joshua repeats, following the words with a solemn nod that Vasquez doesn’t believe for a second. “Think about it,” he adds, leaning forward. He rests his elbows on the table, just barely avoiding having one land right in the middle of his breakfast, and holds up a finger for emphasis. “The night we met, it was you who bought the booze and suggested we go back to my place. I offered breakfast the next mornin’, but you didn’t find it all that satisfactory.”

Vasquez rolls his eyes. “Would you stop saying that? Breakfast was fine.”

“I’m not done yet and interrupting is rude,” Joshua says primly. He waggles his finger again. “After the less than satisfactory breakfast, _you_ took me here, and obviously that was a success or we wouldn’t have come back. But when I took you out yesterday, you wound up with a migraine bad enough I’m surprised you didn’t puke.” He folds his fingers down and shakes a mocking fist at Vasquez. “As such, you’re winning.”

“And you have a problem with this?” Vasquez asks. Part of him can’t believe what he’s hearing, but the rest of him is endeared in spite of himself.

“Duh,” Joshua replies succinctly. “I need to up my game.”

“I feel like I should be concerned.” Vasquez decides. He doesn’t think he’s ever had someone try and turn dating into a competition before. “What if your work suffers because you’re too busy trying to woo me?”

Joshua snorts, totally unconcerned. “One of the best things about my job is how nine times out of ten I can make my own hours. Trust me, I can make this work.”

Vasquez almost asks him what about when his job here ends. After all, there didn’t seem to be much point in expending as much energy as Joshua seemed to be describing into building a relationship that was just going to reach an abrupt end. He doesn’t, however, because he needs a distraction in his life right now, and he can’t think of a better one than Joshua.

Hence why what he says is, “Alright, guero. Let’s find out what you’ve got.”

Joshua grins at him. “I’m goin’ to date you so hard,” he laughs. “I am gonna find every clichéd mess I can think of that this town has to offer, and I’m gonna drag you to all of ‘em.”

“I can hardly wait,” Vasquez deadpans.

*****

He’s more than halfway home the first time his phone buzzes in his pocket. He doesn’t bother to check it since he’s driving and doesn’t have a death with, but when it goes off several more times before he reaches his destination; he gets concerned enough that he almost pulls over to check and make sure it’s not an emergency. He doesn’t, figuring the only emergency would be at home and he’s on his way there now anyway, but it’s a near thing.

It turns out he shouldn’t have worried. When he pulls his phone out while he’s still sitting in the car in the driveway, he finds a slew of texts from Joshua, who’s apparently been having too much fun concocting ridiculous ideas since Vasquez had left him behind at his hotel.

_I’m making a list of every romcom cliché I can think of. brace yourself_

That’s the first text he’s got, and the rest are exactly what Joshua had threatened them to be – a list of every terrible romantic cliché in the book – each one worse than the last.

 _What’re ur thoughts on picnics?I vote yes_ , says one.

 _Google says the nearest beach is 2 towns over. not to far to walk along it_ , says another _._

“Madre di Dios, the man is _insane_ ,” says Vasquez. He replies with a text declaring as much as he climbs out of the car and starts heading for the house. “What have I gotten myself into?”

“Talking to yourself, Vasquez?” Emma’s voice asks. He’d missed her in his walk up to the door because she’s crouched down tending to one of the flowerbeds she’d insisted on putting in when they’d first settled into the house. Vasquez has always figured they were her way of forcing a bit of normalcy back into their lives. In hindsight, it’s probably a little more sensible than what he’s currently doing.

This point is further driven home when Joshua’s latest text comes in and says only, _laser tag!_

 _Absolutely not_. Vasquez shoots back. Anything that put weapons into both their hands, no matter how harmless, was only asking for trouble.

Emma makes a coughing sound, reminding Vasquez that he hasn’t responded to her yet.

“Sorry,” he says, turning to her. “What was it you asked?”

“Never mind,” she tells him, and when he looks at her more closely he sees that she’s smiling.

Vasquez is instantly suspicious of that smile. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see it – he cares about Emma, and she hasn’t smiled enough since losing Matthew – he just doesn’t want it to be at his expense. “What?” He asks again.

“Nothing,” she repeats. “Did you have fun with your boy last night?”

“He’s not my boy,” Vasquez grunts, even as his phone buzzes yet again – this time with the words _mini-golf_ blazing across the screen.

 _That’s even worse, guero._ He sends back.

Still settled in among her flower beds, Emma makes a thoughtful sound. “He’s awful chatty for someone who isn’t your boy,” she points out reasonably.

“He’s chatty in general,” Vasquez replies, which was true. Joshua had a mouth that went a mile a minute, and the ability to keep up a steady stream of words no matter what was going on at the time.

 _Theres GLOW IN THE DARK MINI GOLF_ _did you no that? Wheere a white t shirt and i’ll die happy_. Apparently Joshua’s spelling skills corresponded directly to how ridiculous he was being at any given moment.

 _You will die period if you try and get me to do that_ , Vasquez sends back, and then he ignores the series of sad emoticons Joshua responds with.

He shoves his phone into his pocket where it can do no harm, and focuses on Emma, who gives him a smug grin. “He’s ridiculous,” he says.

“Most men are in my experience,” she shoots back, snickering when he turns his best wounded expression on her. “Don’t even go there, Vas. Tell me about your new friend. Does he have a name?”

“Joshua,” Vasquez tells her, knowing full well that if he doesn’t give her that much she’ll make him regret it, possibly with her teeth if she can catch him at a point when they’re both shifted.

“And where did you meet him?” Vasquez gives her a look, and she snickers. “Okay, I’d already figured he started out as a one night stand. Thanks for confirming it. What made you see him again?”

“He asked,” Vasquez says, shrugging.

“And that was enough?” She asks. When he nods, she gives him another thoughtful look. “Interesting.”

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.” Vasquez tells her, quick to cut whatever thought process she’s having off at the pass. “Joshua’s just … easy. There’s no baggage with him. I don’t have to worry about any of the past history getting dragged up where he’s concerned.”

“Well, there’s certainly something to be said for that,” Emma agrees. She stands then, brushing dirt off her knees and reclaiming her gardening tools from the ground. “But there’s always inevitably baggage with the likes of us if someone sticks around long enough.”

“He’s not from around here,” Vasquez says then. “He’s here on some kind of work term and then he’ll be moving on again.”

Emma frowns at this. She opens her mouth to reply, but then bites back on whatever she was thinking and instead just shakes her head.

“What?” Vasquez asks, and if it comes out harsher than intended he doesn’t think he can be blamed for that.

“Nothing,” she says. “Just … be careful. If you get too attached, you’re going to have decide if you want to introduce him to the pack.”

Vasquez has a sudden vision of Joshua sitting down to a meal at the farmhouse, and doesn’t find the image nearly as off-putting as he perhaps should. He shakes his head. It’s best not to let his mind go there.

*****

“I’ve thought of somewhere I want to take you.” Alejandro says when Faraday picks up the phone. “I think we can safely say it’s my turn to pick something, since you’ve been choosing what we do for weeks now, and for the record I’m still mad about the mini-golf incident.”

“Yeah?” Faraday asks. He’s only half listening since he’s got a stack of printouts outlining various parts of Bogue’s operation laid out in front of him on the bed. Wedging the phone between his shoulder and his ear, he picks up two nearly identical photos, holding them side by side to compare them. “What’s that?”

“There’s a, Christ, I don’t know what you would call it. A fair, I suppose, that happens a little ways outside of the city in the evenings. More of a market really. All kinds of stalls with different homemade things, food mainly.”

That makes Faraday pause. “Why does it always come back to food with you?” He asks with a laugh.

“Because I _like_ food.” Comes the arch reply. “There’s nothing wrong with a healthy appetite, guero.”

“There is when you’re a total snob about it,” Faraday tells him, rolling his eyes even though Alejandro can’t see him.

“Enjoying meals that don’t come out of a paper bag does not make me a snob, Joshua; it just makes me someone less likely to get scurvy.”

“I have never had scurvy in my life, thank you very much,” Faraday informs him. “There is nothing wrong with my eatin’ habits.”

“Please,” Alejandro scoffs on the other end of the line. “You eat like those brothers in that show, the one where they live in their car and go around shooting demons in the face.”

It takes Faraday a second to place what show he means, and when he does he can’t help but throw his head back in laughter due to the irony, dropping his papers and making a mess of them as he does so. “Oh my fuckin’ god,” he crows when he’s got himself back under control. “You did not just say that to me.”

“If the pie fits,” Alejandro replies, and Faraday can tell he’s smiling.

“You are the worst,” Faraday says, still chuckling.

“So you say. What do you think though? Want to come with me?” He sounds like he thinks Faraday might have the nerve to tell him no, which just goes to show that even the smartest of people can be oblivious at times.

“Sure,” Faraday says. “When?”

“I’m free tonight, but I vaguely recall you telling me you had to work. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that.”

Faraday looks down at the mess in front of him. “Alejandro,” he says slowly, “take this however you please, but I would kill for somethin’ to get in the way of that right now.”

Alejandro makes a sympathetic noise. “You’re still having trouble with the job?”

“I’m at my fuckin’ wits end,” Faraday agrees. “Truth be told I think this particular operation is goin’ to turn out to be a bust.” Not that he cared really; he didn’t like Bogue and wasn’t interested in seeing the slimy jackass happy about anything. As far as he’s concerned, the only downside to this op going tits up would be how he’d no longer have an excuse to remain in the city.

Shaking his head, he sternly tells himself to cross that bridge when he comes to it and sets about cleaning up all the papers he’s got strewn about everywhere.

“Where and when should I meet you?”

A few hours later he finds himself being dragged past stall after food laden stall as Alejandro weaves his way through the crowd, obviously in search of something in particular. “I thought you said you were goin’ to feed me,” he says, just to be contrary.

Alejandro tightens his grip on Faraday’s wrist just a tad, before loosening it again and continuing on his way. “I am going to feed you,” he says firmly. “The best ribs in this entire damned country are around here somewhere, so close I can smell them.”

For his part Faraday can’t smell anything of the sort, and he highly doubts Alejandro can either. Regardless, however, he is a fan of ribs, and if the ones Alejandro’s trying to track down are as good as he claims, this entire trip will be worth it. “I hope you realize I skipped lunch for this,” he says as he lets himself be hauled along.

Alejandro pauses just long enough to turn around and give him a judgmental look before moving on again. “Skipping meals is not healthy,” he says over his shoulder.

Safely out of the line of sight, Faraday rolls his eyes.

Finally, Alejandro comes to a stop in front of a stall being manned by a woman with dark hair pulled up in a messy bun and a tired expression on her face. If Faraday had to guess, he’d say she’s been manning her booth all by her lonesome for a while now. Based on the sheer number of people milling about, he does not envy her that one bit.

The woman looks up as they draw closer, and a flicker of recognition passes over her features when she spots Alejandro. “I don’t know if I have enough food left to satisfy you, Vasquez,” she says with a laugh.

Faraday spares a moment to wonder just how often Alejandro comes out here that he’s on speaking terms with one of the vendors. He doesn’t think he’s ever stayed in one place long enough for that to happen to him, yet this isn’t the first time he’s seen Alejandro manage it. The man seems to make friends wherever he goes, so long as there’s food involved anyway.

At the sound of Alejandro’s voice, he focuses back in on the conversation.

“Bethhh,” Alejandro whines, low and pleading. “Don’t say things like that to me, senorita.”

“It’s senora,” Beth says with a roll of his eyes. “I’m older than you, you reprobate, and married.”

“Prove it. I do not believe you.” Alejandro tells her, his eyes sparkling.

Beth rolls her eyes again, clearly used to whatever antics Alejandro is pulling right now. “I’m not proving anything. I assume you’re after a rib dish? Is it the same for your friend here?” At Alejandro’s nod, she gives them both a knowing smile. “Two plates coming up.”

It’s the work of a moment for Beth to load a set of paper plates with a batch of steaming, sauce covered ribs each, and Alejandro reaches for them eagerly, dropping the necessary amount of cash on the table as he goes. Beth snorts out a laugh as she watches Alejandro juggle the food she’s just handed him, and quirks an eyebrow at Faraday. “Aren’t you going to help him?”

“Not a chance,” Faraday says seriously. “He’s a man on his mission, and I’m not doin’ anythin’ unless he tells me to. I’m half afraid I might lose a finger if I get in his way.”

“I only bite when asked, Joshua,” Alejandro says primly. “And if you want anything to eat tonight, I suggest you be nice to me.”

Faraday shares what he means to be a commiserating look with Beth, but she just laughs and waves them on their way. “How is it,” Faraday says as they get moving again, “that you’ve managed to befriend every purveyor of food in this damn city?”

“It’s a combination of good looks, charm, and a healthy appetite,” Alejandro replies. He offers Faraday one of the plates. “Here, try this. It’s good, I promise.”

“It’s ribs,” Faraday says, accepting the plate without complaint. “There’s no such thing as bad ribs, only less good ribs.”

“Well, these are not those kind of ribs. Eat.”

While he might not have quite the appetite Alejandro possesses, Faraday’s no slouch in the eating department himself, so he does as he’s told, digging into the meal in his hands, not minding at all about the sauce covering his fingers once the first bite of meat hits his taste buds. “Oh fuckin’ hell,” he mumbles around the food in his mouth, as flavour explodes on his tongue. “Alright, now I want to know how you’ve managed to befriend all the _best_ purveyors of food in this city.”

Alejandro grins over at him, flicking his tongue out to catch a bit of sauce from his own ribs that’s now adorning the corner of his mouth. “Just lucky, I guess.”

“I take back what I said about you bein’ a food snob,” Faraday says, tearing a strip off another rib with his teeth, and fighting the urge to moan at the taste. If they weren’t in public, he’s not sure he’d have succeeded. “I mean, you _are_ a food snob, but I’m reapin’ the benefits, so I can’t complain.”

“You complain about everything,” Alejandro says, but there’s no heat in his tone and he punctuates the line by bumping Faraday with his hip.

“Oy!” Faraday yelps. “Alejandro, if you make me drop this food, so help me god, I will not be held responsible for my actions.”

“So scared, guero,” Alejandro says, sounding nothing of the sort.

In response, Faraday hunches protectively around his food and gives the other man his best stink eye. “You stay back, now, you hear me?”

“You mean you’re not going to share?” Alejandro asks, unleashing a set of puppy dog eyes that are clearly meant to make Faraday take pity on him.

Faraday snorts, having none of it. “You’ve got your own,” he says around another mouthful, though he doesn’t miss the way Alejandro’s out-eating him at a rate of roughly two to one, his own food disappearing quicker than Faraday would have thought possible.

“Oh, for hell’s sake,” he mutters as he watches Alejandro finish off the last of his meal, going so far as to lick the last dredges of sauce off his long fingers. Against his better judgment, Faraday holds out his own plate with a sigh. “Just leave me some, will you? Otherwise I’m never lettin’ you hear the end of it.”

Alejandro laughs, but instead of taking the offer as Faraday’s expecting, he moves over so that he can loop his left arm through Faraday’s right one and rub their shoulders together. “I don’t need your food, Joshua. Keep it for yourself.”

“Fine, but don’t come whinin’ to me later if you’re still hungry,” Faraday says as he deliberately turns his attention back to the plate in his hands. His heart has started beating faster in the face of Alejandro’s little public display of affection, but the sensation isn’t enough to make him shrug free of Alejandro’s grip.

Clearly oblivious to the path Faraday’s thoughts are now winding down, Alejandro reaches out and swipes his thumb over Faraday’s chin. “Sauce,” he says when Faraday makes a questioning noise, and rather than wiping it off on one of the napkins Beth had given him with their meal, he sucks the digit into his mouth, once again licking the sauce away with every indication of enjoyment.

“You’re disgustin’,” Faraday tells him; ruining his point when the words come out sounding more breathless than he’d meant them to.

Alejandro, damn the bastard, doesn’t miss this. Grinning that oh so wicked grin of his, he props his chin on Faraday’s shoulder, not caring in the slightest that they’re making their way through a crowd of people. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “I’ve just thought of something else I want from you tonight. Walk faster.”

Faraday meets his suddenly heated gaze and shudders.

*****

Faraday feels his breath catch in his throat as he takes in the sight before him. Alejandro looks like some kind of masterpiece, like an artist’s depiction of sin on earth as he lies back and waits for Faraday to move. “Fuck,” Faraday groans, his words slipping out into the night without his permission, his tone reverent. “Fuck, but you are beautiful, sweetheart. I’ve never seen anythin’ like you.”

Alejandro smirks up at him and strokes himself lazily, the move causing Faraday’s mouth to go dry. “Gracias, Joshua, but isn’t there something you’d rather be doing? Me, perhaps?”

Faraday can’t help but grin at that. It looks like, just because Alejandro is changing the game a bit tonight, they’re still playing by something resembling the same rules. “I’m savourin’ the moment,” he says glibly.

Alejandro tips his head back, his chin jutting out with a hint of a challenge, and bucks his hips up once. “That’s nice,” he purrs, “but wouldn’t you rather savour something else?”

As it happens, Faraday would. However, he can’t help but feel like they’re on the cusp of something important tonight, and whatever that may be, he doesn’t want to ruin it. Alejandro may be looking at him like he’s ripe for the taking, but Faraday needs to play this right.

He shuffles forward until he can settle his body down between Alejandro’s spread legs, bringing one hand up to stroke over the man’s hip, while he uses the other to prop himself up so that he can peer down and meet his companion’s dark, heavy gaze. “You sure you want this, sweetheart?” He asks. Alejandro’s never given any indication he’s wanted Faraday to fuck him before, always seeming content to take Faraday instead, and Faraday doesn’t know why he’s asking for it tonight.

Yet, Alejandro just gives him a smile and the barest hint of a shrug. “Si. Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, guero,” he points out reasonably. Then he brings his hands up and curls them all big and possessive around the back of Faraday’s neck and drags him down for a kiss.

Faraday melts into it, content to let Alejandro takes the lead even though he’s ostensibly the one on top this time around. He opens his mouth willingly, lips parting so that Alejandro can lick his way inside and tangle their tongues together.

“I want you in me,” Alejandro murmurs when he’s pulled back enough to talk. “I want to feel you. I don’t care how clichéd that sounds.”

Faraday can’t stop the groan that slips out at his words. “Fuck,” he says, and if it comes out as something akin to a whine at least he’s fairly sure Alejandro won’t tell. “That’s – _fuck_ , yeah. Of course, anythin’ you want, darlin’.”

Alejandro chuckles, raking his hands up so that his fingers rifle through Faraday’s hair, catching on curls that are suddenly beaded with perspiration. “You say that, guerito, but I don’t see you moving.”

“You got a problem with me takin’ my time?” Faraday asks.

“That depends on how much time you’re going to take,” Alejandro says with a laugh. He drops his hands down and curls them under the back of his head, looking up at Faraday expectantly.

“Well, I reckon we’ve got all night,” Faraday points out. “What do you think?”

Alejandro wrinkles his nose and moves his hands again. “Wrong answer, guero. If you’re going to take that long I’ll handle things myself.”

Faraday considers that for the briefest of seconds, and then shifts so that he can pin both of Alejandro’s wrists to the mattress with his own hands. “I’m thinking I’ll pass on that option if it’s all the same to you.”

“Then move,” Alejandro says, and there’s a hint of a bite to his voice that wasn’t there before. It seems like he’s getting tired of Faraday’s stalling.

Faraday doesn’t think Alejandro’s annoyed, not genuinely anyway, but he’s willing to admit that riling him up too much likely isn’t a good idea. Therefore, he decides it’s time to stop playing. “Alright, alright,” he says soothingly. “Calm down.”

Before Alejandro can get a chance to reply, Faraday dives in for one more kiss, and then moves to slide down the bed after he’s done. He thinks about trying for a show of finesse, then decides to hell with it since they’re neither of them men who care about such things, and sucks Alejandro into his mouth, enjoying the surprised gasp this earns him.

Faraday’s had his mouth on Alejandro more times than he can count at this point, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of the way the man sounds every time, all deep and breathy and like he’s never enjoyed anything more than having his dick sucked. Pleased by the way those noises are starting up again, Faraday flicks his tongue over the head before pulling off slowly.

“I’m gonna need …” he starts, motioning his hand towards the bedside table and the condoms and lube he knows are stored in the drawer there. The objects in question bounce off his forehead, indicating that Alejandro’s way ahead of him at this point. “… thanks.” He hears rather than sees Alejandro snicker, and gives the bastard a sharp smack on the hip in admonishment.

“Not nice, guero,” Alejandro grits out, nudging at Faraday’s head with a knee.

Instead of answering verbally, Faraday pops open the cap of the lube bottle and begins liberally coating his fingers until they’re slick enough for his purposes. He starts slow, pressing in with just the tip of one finger, grinning when Alejandro lets out a gratifying hiss. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“Si,” Alejandro says, but he shifts awkwardly, making Faraday pause.

“You sure about that?”

“ _Si_ ,” Alejandro says more insistently. “It’s just cold.”

Faraday runs a hand soothingly over his hip. “You sure about _that_?”

Alejandro snorts. “Joshua, it’s been a while, but not _that_ long. Keep going. _Muévete_.” He punctuates the last word with a deliberate roll of his hips, and Faraday does as he’s told, pushing forward until the first finger is all the way in, basking in the satisfying gasps his actions pull out of Alejandro.

“Más.” Alejandro grits out after  a few moments of this, grinding his body down shamelessly. “Quiero más.”

“What?” Faraday blinks. He’s picked up a bit of Spanish since they’d started this whatever-it-is between them, but whatever Alejandro’s just said is beyond him.

“More,” Alejandro hisses.

Faraday lets out a thoughtful noise, but does as he’s told, slowly working in a second finger next to the first, using its added weight to spread Alejandro open as he goes. He splays the fingers out slightly, hooking and curling them until Alejandro lets out a ragged gasp and arches upwards, telling Faraday he’s found what he’s looking for.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he says, placing his free hand on Alejandro’s stomach and pressing down just enough to stop his movements. “I’ve got you.”

Alejandro lets out a string of Spanish that sounds decidedly uncomplimentary, but stills like Faraday intends him to.

“Good boy,” Faraday says, giving him a gentle pat on his flank.

Alejandro’s eyes flash, and he bares his teeth in a feral snarl. “One, do not call me that. Two, hurry _up_.” He emphasises his demand with a twist of his hips that’s enough to dislodge Faraday’s free hand from it’s current resting spot.

“Pushy pushy,” Faraday grumbles, but he slips a third finger in anyway, moving more carefully now as the stretch is more intense. “That better?”

“Mm, si,” Alejandro hums. His eyes slip shut and he rocks his hips down on the bed in short, sharp motions, trying to take Faraday’s fingers in deeper.

Faraday grins, and leans forward so that he can swipe his tongue along the length of Alejandro’s shaft as he keeps up the motions of his fingers.

Alejandro lets out a low, gutteral moan, throwing his head back and fisting his fingers in the sheets in obvious enjoyment. “Unh, Joshua,” he groans, and Faraday figures he could live to be a hundred and not hear anything that sounds so sweet to his ears.

“That’s me,” he agrees easily. “You ready for somethin’ different?” He punctuates this question with a twist of his fingers that sends Alejandro keening.

“Obviamente,” Alejandro hisses when he gets his voice back under control – for a given value of control that is, his words having gone high and tight, the strain clear in his tone. “Ahora, por favor.”

Faraday’s not sure of the exact translation this time, but the look Alejandro gives him is more than enough to make his meaning plain. “Okay,” Faraday says, his mouth going dry. “Yeah, okay. Just let me …” He pulls his fingers free, murmuring soothingly when Alejandro lets out a wordless noise of protest and fumbles for the condom he knows is nearby somewhere.

He finds it after what feels like a small eternity and then spends a second small eternity getting it on, not missing the way Alejandro laughs at him. “I don’t see you helpin’,” he grumbles.

Alejandro opens his mouth, no doubt to say something snide, Faraday can tell by the look on his face, but all the comes out is a ragged moan when Faraday lines himself up and slowly sinks inside him. 

“Uhhh,” Alejandro groans, long and drawn out, and Faraday echoes the sentiment.

Alejandro feels incredible, the tight, warm heat of him surrounding Faraday as he presses in inch by torturous inch, wanting to take it all in immediately, but equally unwilling to push. He gasps when he finally bottoms out, the sound torn out of him as he comes to a stop with nowhere further to go.

He watches as Alejandro brings one hand up, splaying his palm flat against Faraday’s chest, his breath coming in short, sharp pants that get cut off when he bites hard on his lower lip. Faraday frowns at the sight. “You okay, sweetheart?” He asks, tamping down on his own desperate need to move in favor of more important things.

Still biting his lip, Alejandro screws his eyes shut and nods his head before saying, “I’m fine.”

In spite of the words, there’s an edge to his voice that makes Faraday doubt him. “Why don’t we …” He starts to pull back only to have Alejandro shift the hand on his chest ot the back of his neck, the strong grip keeping him in place.

“No,” he hisses, shaking his head for emphasis. “It’s not that. I just need – fuck, just give me a moment.” He finally opens his eyes back up, and meets Faraday’s gaze. “I wasn’t lying when I said it’s been a while, but I’m fine.”

“If you’re sure,” Faraday says dubiously. Doing as requested, he stills his entire body, determined to let Alejandro have whatever he needs, whatever he _wants_ to make this work.

He’s not sure how much times passes, though it’s probably no more than a minute or two, and then it’s Alejandro who starts moving first, rocking his hips in tiny, incremental thrusts, as if he’s testing his own limits. Faraday stays motionless through it all, more than willing to let Alejandro take what he wants and to wait and see what that is.

Alejandro’s movements speed up a little, and he brings both his hands up, resting one each on Faraday’s shoulders as his mouth curls into a grin. “Move,” he says then. “Fuck. Damnit, Joshua, move.”

Faraday doesn’t need to be told twice, although he keeps his initial movements slow, pulling out gently and then sliding back in at a pace that’s nothing short of glacial.

Alejandro makes an annoyed noise, tugging insistently at Faraday’s shoulders. He opens his mouth – probably to say something scathing, Faraday imagines – only to choke on the words when Faraday snaps his hips forward suddenly, thrusting into him in one solid push.

“You good?” Faraday asks, needing to know that was okay.

“Yes, yes fuck.” Alejandro’s hands scrabble for purchase on his back, blunt fingernails digging into the skin in a way that’s bound to leave marks in the morning. “Do it again.”

Obligingly, Faraday does as he’s told, pleasure singing throughout his own body as he rolls his hips and drives into the tight, wet heat Alejandro’s offering him. “Fuck, sweetheart,” Faraday groans out. “Oh fuckin’ christ, you feel so good. Damnit, look at you.”

“I can’t look at me, güero,” Alejandro says with a breathless laugh. “I can only look at you.”

“Smartass,” Faraday grits out, punctuating the word with a vicious snap of his hips that sends Alejandro keening.

“Cabron,” Alejandro shoots back, or tries too, the word getting managled into a groan when Faraday thrusts into him again.

“You like that, huh?” Faraday asks, enjoying Alejandro’s frantic nod in response. “Hell yeah, you do. Look at you just takin’ it for me, takin’ it so well.” Alejandro gives a full body shudder at his words, and Faraday chokes back a moan. Leaning forward, he sinks his teeth into the juncture between Alejandro’s neck and shoulder, biting down and worrying the sensitive skin while the man whines beneath him.

“So good,” Faraday murmurs, giving the spot one last flick with his tongue before he shifts to bite at Alejandro’s jaw instead. “So good for me.”

Alejandro whimpers, there’s no other word for it, and buries one hand in Faraday’s hair, using his grip to drag him in for a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth and ragged gasps.

Faraday groans into it, and at the same time slides a hand down between the press of their bodies until he can curl it around Alejandro’s length, delighting in the way the man automatically ruts up against him, another one of those delicious cries torn from his throat as Faraday works him even further into a frenzy.

“Fuck,” he chants over and over as he pulls back just enough that he can look down at Alejandro, drinking in the sight of him as he loses more and more of his control. “Fuck fuck _fuck_. I don’t know what I did to find you, but if there’s ever proof god exists, this is it.”

“Unh, Joshua, _stop talking_ , Madre de dios, I have never in my _life_ met a man who … who …” Whatever Alejandro had been trying to say, and for a man who complains about talking too much, Faraday thinks he might want to take a look in a mirror, gets cut off as Faraday starts up a pace that sends them both gasping, each of them chasing the end of goal of release and both determined to see the other beat him to the punch.

Faraday, however, who is unwilling to lose yet all too willing to play dirty, has the advantage. Adjusting his hold on Alejandro’s cock, he times the slide of his hand so that it works in perfect tandem with the roll of his hips, not backing down until Alejandro groans, digging his fingers into the rumpled disaster the bedding has become, and spills messily all over Faraday’s hand.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Faraday croons as he strokes him through it, his own needs for climax momentarily forgotten in the face of Alejandro’s writhing body. “God, look at you. You’re fuckin’ perfect, did you know that? Absolutely perfect.”

He doesn’t think Alejandro hears him, not with the way he seems to be too caught up in the pleasure Faraday’s still wringing from his body, but the words are there, hanging between them as Alejandro starts letting out choked off whimpers as Faraday’s continued touching becomes too much for oversensitive flesh.

“You need me to take care of myself?” Faraday asks as he releases his grip and shifts to brace himself with both hands flat on the mattress.

“No,” Alejandro insists, and his own hands come up to rest over Faraday’s hips, urging him on. “I want it all.”

Faraday doesn’t need to be told twice. Permission given, he bucks up into Alejandro’s body, not stopping untl he finally crests the wave he’s been chasing since the moment Alejandro had first shoved him onto the bed. “Holy shit,” he gasps out, “oh my god.”

Below him, Alejandro wraps a hand around one of his biceps, fingers tracing slow circles over heated skin. “Easy, guerito,” he says, his own voice slurring ever so slightly. “I’ve got you.”

“Lord don’t you just,” Faraday huffs out with a laugh. He lets himself sag forward until he’s lying sprawled out on top of Alejandro. “That was … _fuck_.”

“Si,” Alejandro agrees, and now he’s laughing too. “That was indeed ‘fuck’.”

Rolling his eyes, Faraday swats at him but doesn’t even have the energy not to miss. “Asshole,” he says fondly. He takes a few more moments to recover, and then presses a kiss to Alejandro’s cheek and steels himself to pull out of the warm clutch of the other man’s body.

“Okay?” He asks when Alejandro can’t quite hold back a hiss.

“Yes,” Alejandro assures him with a light pat on the back. “Very okay.”

“Good,” Faraday tells him. He grabs Alejandro’s hand when he goes to pull it away and brushes a swath of kisses over the knuckles. “Because I would never forgive myself if you hadn’t enjoyed that as much as I did.”

Alejandro rolls his eyes and tugs his hand free. “You are just fishing for compliments, Joshua. Do not front.”

Faraday grins. “Well,” he says glibly, “if you want to tell me I’m the best you’ve ever had, I’m certainly not goin’ to complain.”

“Yes, yes, you are a sex god,” Alejandro replies, following this line with another eye roll. “Now, do me a favor and go find something to clean up with. I am not going to sleep like this.”

Sighing, Faraday shifts to do as he’s told, though not without some pointed grumbling on his part.

“Honestly,” he mutters, not bothering to speak low enough that Alejandro can’t hear him as he heads into the bathroom on legs that feel a bit like they’re made of jelly. He ditches the used condom in the trash as he grabs for a washcloth and runs it under the tap. “You’d think I could get somethin’ of a compliment that wasn’t loaded with sarcasm, but nooo. It’s nothin’ but smartassery and rude comments from you.”

He comes back into the room, damp cloth in hand, and makes his way back to the bed. “I should file a complaint.”

Laid back against the pillows with his head rest in his hands, Alejandro shrugs. “I think you made at least one of those words up,” he points out.

“Who cares?” Faraday asks as he climbs back into bed. He gets the cloth between Alejandro’s legs, starting in on the mess there. “I’ve made up a lot of things in my time. What’s one more?”

Instead of coming back with a sarcastic comment like Faraday is expecting, Alejandro lets out a contented sigh, leaning back a little to give Faraday better access in lieu of saying anything else. Taking that as his cue, Faraday makes quick work of the rest of the mess they’ve made and then starts to get up with every intention of putting the washcloth back where he’d found it, only to be stopped by Alejandro making a grab for him.

“What …?” He starts to say.

“Leave it,” Alejandro says, cutting him off with a shake of his head. “Just throw it somewhere and stay with me.”

Pretty sure that’s an order he’ll never be able to refuse, Faraday does as he’s told.

*****

He doesn’t know how long they lie there afterwards, each of them seemingly content to curl up in the other’s arms, trading lazy kisses back and forth as they come down from the high they’d managed to bring each other to, but he knows it’s a while. Eventually, he has to pull back, unable to spend too much time like this before he gets overwhelmed, and he rolls over onto his side, facing away from Alejandro, who makes a questioning noise.

“Joshua?” He asks, looping an arm around Faraday’s waist and sounding concerned.

Faraday squeezes his hand gently in an attempt to tell him there’s nothing to worry about, but he doesn’t know how well he gets his point across. He’s not good at this, is the thing. Putting it bluntly, it’s been just him for so long that he doesn’t handle affection as well as he should anymore. Probably because he hasn’t seen too much of it in the years since his mother’s been gone.

He feels Alejandro nuzzle at his shoulder, and he gives himself a little shake as he focuses back on the present and the man lying next to him. Craning his neck, he looks back and finds Alejandro watching him with a complicated expression on his face.

“You went away, guero,” he says softly. “Want to tell me where?”

Faraday opens his mouth to refuse, only to pause before he gets the words out. The thing of it is, he _does_ want to tell Alejandro where his head had been just now, and if that isn’t a sign that this thing between them has gotten bigger than Faraday had ever planned to let it, he doesn’t know what is.

“I was thinkin’ about my Ma,” he says, even though it’s not entirely true, but if his voice is shaking a little when he does so, Alejandro is kind enough not to say anything, choosing instead to gaze back at Faraday impassively, attentive and waiting for him to continue. “I think,” Faraday starts softly, deciding he may as well continue down along this path now that he’s set himself upon it. “I think she would’ve liked you.”

Alejandro, bless him, doesn’t make a big deal out of this. “And I’m sure I would have like her.” He says simply.

Faraday laughs at this, the action genuine for all that it comes out sounding more brittle than he’d like. Rolling over in the bed, he settles so that he’s facing Alejandro, who props himself up on his elbow and gazes fondly down at Faraday as he waits for him to speak again.

When Faraday doesn’t, when he’s unable to force another word out of a throat that’s suddenly gone tight, Alejandro says gently, “Would you tell me about her?”

Faraday blinks, not expecting the question, and takes a moment to turn it over in his head. He doesn’t talk about his mother is the thing, at least not in the sense Alejandro’s asking for. Then again, he’s never had anyone _to_ talk to about her.

“She was … big,” he says finally, unsure of how to start properly and so just diving on in. “And loud. She swore an awful lot and laughed even more.”

Alejandro smiles at this. “So, she was you then.”

Faraday chuckles, relaxing more and more as this goes on. “Yeah. I mean, I didn’t look much like her, got my size and my coloring from her side, but the facial features all came from the sperm donor.”

Alejandro frowns at the descriptor of his father, but doesn’t comment, which is good. Pretty much the only thing Faraday knows about the man is that they resemble each other, and he’s got no desire to learn more. “I was my mother’s son,” he says flatly. “Nobody else’s.”

“You still are, Joshua.” Faraday must appear confused at this because Alejandro clarifies, “Just because she’s gone doesn’t make you any less her child.”

“I guess,” he says dubiously. He doesn’t much feel like it these days. For all his talk of working in the family business, he doesn’t think his Ma would’ve ever worked for the likes of Bart Bogue. Nor does he enjoy picturing what her response to his doing so would be.

His chin is suddenly gripped by long, callused fingers, and Faraday raises his eyebrows as Alejandro shakes him gently. “Can I help you?” He asks with a laugh.

Alejandro gives him a long look, one tinted with concern, and shakes him a second time. “You went away again. I didn’t like it.”

Faraday huffs out a laugh, even though it’s maybe not the best response to so serious a declaration, and brings a hand up to pry Alejandro’s fingers off of him. Once he’s accomplished this mission, however, he refuses to let go, and instead sets about pressing kisses to each of Alejandro’s knuckles, grinning when the other man flexes his fingers and makes a pleased noise.

“You miss her a lot, don’t you?” Alejandro asks his voice sad.

Faraday doesn’t have the words to respond to that, a simple yes isn’t sufficient, but more would seem like he was trying too hard. He settles for nodding instead, and wonders if that can somehow get across how losing his mother had abruptly left him alone in a world where he’d already felt like he didn’t belong. It takes him a moment before he can meet Alejandro’s gaze, and when he does he can’t say how relieved he is not to find pity there.

“I … it was just to the two of us,” he says finally. “No other family except a few distant relatives we hardly ever saw, and we moved around so much growin’ up that I was never in one place long enough to forge any ties.” It’s why he’s so bad at this, he doesn’t add, why he doesn’t know what he’s doing with Alejandro and if he should keep going or run now while he can still convince himself he has a chance to get away.

Alejandro twists his hand so that he’s the one holding Faraday’s and not the other way around. He brings it to his lips and drops a handful of butterfly kisses on it, the last one falling dead centre in the middle of Faraday’s palm. “That’s a difficult way to live,” he murmurs.

Faraday shrugs as best he’s able with one hand still caught in Alejandro’s grip. “I was happy enough.”

“Mm,” Alejandro hums. “What was her name?”

“Eleanor,” Faraday says after a moment’s consideration of whether or not he’s ready to release that detail. “She went by Ellie, though. Said she didn’t care if it was a silly nickname for a grown woman, it was hers and she was goin’ to be called what she wanted.”

“Definitely your mother,” Alejandro says with a laugh.

Faraday grins back at him, only to sober soon after. “She died alone,” he says quietly, part of him shocked he’d dared to go there even as the words are leaving his mouth. Alejandro’s grip on his hand tightens perceptively, but he doesn’t say anything as he waits for Faraday to continue. “I was … fuck, not sure. Not quite nineteen, I think. I’d managed to pick up a job, one of my first, half a country away and she told me to go. Insisted, I go, actually.”

He laughs then, but it’s shallow, the old pain and sense of betrayal welling up in him like they always do when he stops to think about this.

“What happened?” Alejandro asks, only to immediately backtrack when Faraday shudders. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me, of course. But I’ll listen if you want.”

Faraday takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “She was sick,” he says, and if his voice is harsh even after all these years then so be it. “She was sick and she didn’t tell me.”

His hand clenches of its own volition, but if it’s too tight, Alejandro doesn’t comment. “I always figured she didn’t want me to have to watch her die, didn’t want me to see her like that, but I’ll never know because she didn’t fuckin’ tell me.”

“Oh, mijo,” Alejandro murmurs, and there’s no denying that he sounds sad now. “Lo siento, cariño.”

“I have no idea what you just said,” Faraday mutters, deciding to focus on the innocuous rather than the constricting feeling in his chest, like there’s something wrapped around his insides and squeezing until he can’t breathe anymore.

“I said, I’m sorry,” Alejandro translates needlessly.

“Yeah, well.” Part of Faraday wishes he could have his hand back so he could use it to better brush off Alejandro’s words. The rest of him knows full well he’s not letting go until somebody makes him. “It was over ten years ago, obviously I’ve learned to adapt.”

“Ten years,” Alejandro repeats, and Faraday knows he’s not imaging the horrified note in his voice. “And you’ve been alone the whole time? How did you _live_?”

He sounds so scandalized Faraday’s half tempted to laugh even though there’s nothing funny about it. “I don’t know,” he says honestly, raw and open in a way he wouldn’t be with anybody else. “I just did, I suppose.”

Alejandro shakes his head. “I couldn’t do it,” he says harshly. “I was, for almost a year I was by myself and it nearly killed me. People aren’t meant to exist in a vacuum, cariño, you hear me? We’re social creatures for a reason.”

“Hey, I’m plenty social,” Faraday says, trying to play it off. “After all, was it not my open and gregarious nature that caught your attention in the first place?”

He’s expecting Alejandro to play it off, to come back at him with a joke like he always does, forever feeding off Faraday’s energy as they one up each other in quips and jabs and barbed sarcasm. Instead, Alejandro frowns. “You’re trying to change the subject. Don’t. You shouldn’t have been alone all this time. It isn’t _right_.”

Faraday almost, but doesn’t quite roll his eyes. Alejandro sounds so convinced he’s practically radiating fervent belief. “It is what it is. If I’m bein’ honest, I could’ve made things better for myself by findin’ a place to settle down and stayin’ there. I didn’t _have_ to keep roaming all over hell and creation.”

Alejandro’s face does … something. For one daring moment, Faraday thinks the other man might tell him it’s time for him to think real hard about the whole settling down idea. Then the moment passes and reality reasserts itself. He knows Alejandro likes him well enough, in fact he probably cares more about Faraday than anyone has since his Ma passed, but there is a hell of a difference between “I enjoy what we get up to together enough to keep doing it” and “Stay with me forever”.

Faraday can’t imagine Alejandro’s looking for forever. Otherwise, why would he have chosen a man he knew from the get go was supposed to leave?

On the other hand, who says he’s has to leave? He’s already been considering ways to tell Bogue he’s out, and it’s not like he’s tied to any particular place. If he were to settle down, to give up the whole vagabond lifestyle, there wasn’t a reason he couldn’t do it here.

He looks at Alejandro, who’s still watching him with a worried frown, and he wonders if maybe it’s not time for a change of pace.

It’s worth a thought anyway.

*****

If Vasquez were a more imaginative man – one like Goodnight perhaps, with all his fanciful terms and colorful descriptors – he might be better equipped to describe the feeling in the pit of his stomach when he drops down onto Emma’s bed upon his return to the farmhouse. However, since he doesn’t begin to have the right words, not in either of the languages he speaks, he merely sinks into the bedding, buries his face in the soft duvet, and keeps his mouth shut.

Emma, who’d been in the process of drawing back the curtains and opening the room’s only window when he’d first stormed inside without so much as a hello, doesn’t stop what she’s doing. It’s not until she has the window up as far as it will go, a cool breeze now beginning to drift in through it, that she turns her attention to him.

“Do I even want to know?” She asks, and Vasquez refuses to look at her because he’s afraid to see what her face might be doing.

Wriggling uncomfortably, he sighs into the bedding and considers how much of a tactical error coming in here might have been. He needs to talk to someone, there’s no question about that, and Emma’s history means she’s without a doubt the best person for the job. Unfortunately, knowing that and facing it head on are two very different things.

“Vasquez,” she says, exasperation coloring her tone. “I don’t ask for much in this life, but people showing me manners and respect happen to be among the few things I do require and you barging in here like this and hiding your head in the sand like a sulky toddler don’t constitute that in the slightest. Either tell me what’s wrong or get out.”

“I want him,” Vasquez grunts, still not looking at her.

“What?” She asks, and Vasquez wonders if the way he’s lying down prevented her from hearing her properly.

“Joshua.” He clarifies, speaking a little louder. “I want him. I want him like you had Matthew.”

“Oh,” Emma says, and he swears he hears a faint snicker from her direction as realization dawns. “Is that all?”

“Is that all?” He echoes, shooting up into a sitting position at the mere suggestion that he hasn’t just declared something momentous out in the open. “I drop what is arguably the most significant declaration of my life on you, and the only thing you can do is ask me if that is all? Emma!”

“Vasquez,” she says pityingly “Everyone in the pack has been watching this coming for weeks now. The only thing we’ve been waiting on is to see how long it’d take _you_ to figure it out. Sam and Goody have a wager on it and everything.”

“You’re lying,” he says, hoping he’s right more than actually believing he is.

Emma crosses her arms over her chest and gives him a knowing look that does away with any hope he might have had. “I can show you the betting book if you like.”

Groaning, Vasquez covers his face with his hands and flops back onto the bed. He briefly considers cocooning himself up in all the blankets and refusing to come out ever again, but the odds of Emma letting him get away with that are slim to none. If nothing else, she’s likely to kick him out just so she can get her own room back.

“Oh, yes,” Emma says from her current vantage point. “You’ll win him over for sure with this little display.”

“Please don’t mock me right now,” he whines through his fingers. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Do you ever?” She asks, coming over to settle down beside him when he lets out another pathetic noise. “Oh, alright,” she grouses, and he feels it as she pats his side with one hand. “Calm down, Vasquez. This isn’t a bad thing.”

“Yes, it is,” he snaps, uncovering his hands so that he can look up at her with the full brunt of his glare. When all she does is look at him unsympathetically, he kicks free of the tangle of blankets he’s made and scrambles to his feet so he can begin pacing the length of the room.

“Putting aside all of the … the _feelings_ ,” he starts, stumbling over the word like it’s one that doesn’t belong in his mouth, “what exactly do you think is going to come from all of this, hmm? How the hell do I even tell him? Buenos dias, Joshua, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something. What’s that? Yes, I am interested in making this thing between us permanent, good guess, but what I really need to tell you is that I’m a werewolf. Surprise! No, don’t worry, all the times I’ve bitten you won’t make you one too.”

Scrubbing his hands through his hair, no doubt making it stand up wildly, he whirls around. “How am I supposed to get that across and have him not turn tail and run? Mierda, how am I supposed to do that and have him not try to have me committed?”

“Well,” Emma says thoughtfully, “for the second one I’m going to suggest you just shift in front of him. He might still do the whole turning and running thing, but at least he’ll believe you.”

He glares at her. “Not. Helpful.”

She sighs. “Vasquez, I don’t know what you want me to say. If you want the man, you’re going to have to tell him. I know it’s terrifying, believe me, I was scared out of my wits when I told Matthew, but you can’t bring him into your life for good with that kind of secret hanging over your head. It’ll never work.”

“I know that,” he all but roars, immediately backtracking when he realizes how poorly that had come out. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just …”

“Terrified,” Emma finishes for him, and if he ever needed proof that she’s a better person than he is, he finds it in the way she doesn’t look even the slightest bit offended by his outburst. “Don’t be ashamed, no one’s going to blame you for it.”

He hums noncommittally and slows his pacing, coming to a stop a few feet away from where Emma’s sitting on the bed with her hands folded in her lap. “I want him,” he says like he had earlier, “but I don’t know if I can have him.”

“And you won’t until you do something about it,” she tells him. “It’s not that I don’t sympathize with your plight, but that’s just fact. When are you seeing him again?”

Vasquez waves a hand airily. “Tomorrow night. He has something he wants to do, I don’t know what. He likes coming up with ridiculous plans, says it’s fun to keep me on my toes.”

“So he likes things that are different,” Emma decides. “Good. Maybe that’ll make this easier for him.”

Vasquez rolls his eyes. “I think you are reaching with that one.”

“Probably,” she acknowledges. “On the other hand, why borrow trouble if you don’t have to? We both know your Joshua is going to find out about us. I don’t see any reason to assume he’s going to take it poorly unless he actually does so.”

“You don’t?” Vasquez asks. “Because I can. I can think of seven of them in this house, nine if you count you and me, or have you forgotten what will be put at risk if he doesn’t react well? We’ve already had to flee one home, Emma. What if I make us lose a second one?”

She frowns at that, her eyes going sad as she no doubt thinks of Matthew and everything else they’ve already lost. “Do you really think he’ll take it that poorly?”

“I – ugh.” Vasquez flaps a hand wildly to try and illustrate how little surety he has about anything right now. “Does it matter? What right do I have to put us all at risk just because … because …”

“Because you’re in love?” Emma finishes for him.

“No,” he denies. “That is not at all what I was going to say. What do you know?”

“Uh huh.” Some of the sadness fades from Emma’s face as it’s replaced with amusement at his predicament. “For the record, if you can’t be honest with yourself, you’re going to have a problem being honest with Joshua.”

She stands then, and takes the few steps required to place herself right in front of him. Reaching up, she cups his cheek in a surprisingly gentle hand. “Tell him, Alejandro. We’ll deal with the fallout if it goes poorly. We always do.”

“I … alright,” he says slowly, “but if it all goes badly, I expect you to make me feel better.”

Smiling, she gives his face a firm pat. “I will buy you all the whiskey in the state,” she promises, and he decides he’s going to hold her to it.

*****

Faraday’s been forced to make a rare appearance at Bogue’s base of operations, but he’d be lying if he said his head was in the game. He strolls along the corridor that leads to Bogue’s personal office, no less than three of the man’s hired goons trailing along behind him, and he thinks very little about what he’s seeing. That’s not the wisest move on his part, but it doesn’t change the fact that every time he closes his eyes all he can see is Alejandro gazing at him softly while he talks about his mother.

He wants that for good, he now realizes. To hell with the lifestyle he’s lived up until this point, and to hell with Bart Bogue and whatever mess he’s gotten himself into in particular, Faraday’s found something he wants of a more permanent nature. The only problem is it’s going to take a rather dramatic change in career paths on this part.

Well, that and he has to convince Alejandro to take a chance on him, of course.

He takes a deep, steadying breath as he waits for one of the goon squad to key him into the room, but it’s got nothing to do with his upcoming meeting with his employer. He’s due to see Alejandro later this evening. With that in mind he figures he should start coming up with what he wants to say.

There’s a clicking sound as Bogue’s office door opens, and Faraday shakes himself back to the present. Right now he needs to give Bogue his latest there-are-no-wolves-here-as-far-as-I-can-see-how-much-longer-are-you-going-to-waste-my-time report, and then he can focus trying to make a permanent stab at things with Alejandro.

After that … well, then he’d have to see.

*****

“I can’t believe you decided breaking and entering was a good idea for a date, Joshua,” Vasquez says with a sad shake of his head.

Joshua looks up from where he’s fishing another beer out of the cooler by his feet. “Okay, one, it ain’t breakin’ and enterin’, it’s just using the patio of the hotel I’ve been living in for ages after hours, and, two, if it _was_ breakin’ and enterin’, you’ve gone along with it the whole time, so what does that say about you?”

Vasquez laughs and reclines back on the lounge chair he’s claimed as his own. “It says I’ve been viciously led astray by you.”

“It says nothin’ of the sort,” Joshua counters. Beer successfully retrieved, he stands and makes his way over to Vasquez, bypassing the seat he’d been using for himself, and instead settling down on Vasquez’s chair, despite the fact that it’s nowhere near big enough for both of them. “Scoot over, would you?”

“We will not both fit, guero,” Vasquez tells him, and then ruins his protest by obediently shuffling over and making room for Joshua to sit down partly on the chair and partly on Vasquez himself. “And you are heavy.”

Joshua makes an annoyed noise, and then sets about rearranging them so that he’s the one underneath Vasquez instead of the other way around. “Better?” He asks as he curves a large hand over Vasquez’s hip and drags him into his lap, tangling their legs together.

“Si,” Vasquez concedes. He takes a drink from the beer he’s still holding and lets himself settle back against Joshua’s broad chest. “Though we still don’t fit.”

He feels it as Joshua rumbles out a laugh beneath him. “You are awfully hard to please sometimes, you know that?”

“I didn’t say I minded,” Vasquez protests. He wriggles a bit before huffing out a contented sigh. “This was not so bad an idea.”

“Well, I’m glad to have your approval, sweetheart.” Joshua says. Vasquez can tell he’s aiming for sarcasm, but he ruins it when he laughs and slips the fingers of his free hand under Vasquez’s shirt, tracing tiny circles over the exposed skin.

Vasquez hums a little, before adding, “Just so you know, if we get caught up here I’m claiming you abducted me.”

“And what? You developed fuckin’ Stockholm Syndrome in under an hour?” Joshua makes a scoffing sound and takes a swig of his beer. “It’ll never fly.”

“You don’t know that,” Vasquez disagrees.

Joshua laughs and rubs their cheeks together obnoxiously, the scruff of his beard catching on Vasquez’s jaw in an extremely pleasing, if distracting manner. “Joshua,” Vasquez groans, remembering that he’d come up here tonight with something important to discuss. “Guero, stop that, please.”

“Why?” Joshua asks in that impish way of his.

“Because,” he starts, only to be cut off when Joshua places his half-empty beer bottle on a convenient table and gets both his hands on Vasquez’s body. “Damnit, Joshua.”

“That’s me,” Joshua says with a laugh. He catches Vasquez’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, nudging him upwards to steal a couple kisses.

Maybe it’s because of what he’s got percolating in the back of his own mind, but Vasquez can’t help but feel like there’s a sense of urgency behind Joshua’s actions tonight. Lounging about in each other’s arms while trading kiss after kiss isn’t entirely outside the realm of possibility for them, but it isn’t common behaviour either. Especially not in a public space, no matter how deserted it may be.

“You are being distracting,” he scolds, grabbing for Joshua’s hands before the man can worm them under his shirt again.

“Distractin’?” Joshua repeats. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I need to talk to you about something,” Vasquez grits out, trying and failing to put a little distance between them. He should be standing up for this, or at least not crammed into the same chair as the man he’s about to drop the ‘So, I happen to be a werewolf and would like it if you stayed with me forever’ bomb on. Maybe he should have brought flashcards.

“It’s important,” he adds, hoping he sounds serious enough to be listened to.

He must because Joshua stops moving. “Important,” he repeats. “Okay,” and then he focuses all of his attention on Vasquez, which is somehow worse than he’d imagined it might be. “I’m listenin’, sweetheart.”

“I …” Vasquez says weakly, wondering where all his courage has abruptly decided to fuck off to.

He’s still trying to figure out what to say, and wishing desperately that he’d bothered to rehearse something, anything, when a shrill ringing noise blares out from the front pocket of Joshua’s jeans.

“Motherfucker,” Joshua swears. “Hang on, sweetheart. Just gimme a second.” He pulls his phone free, jostling Vasquez a bit in the process, and swears again when he sees whatever’s scrolling across the screen. He stuffs the still screaming phone back where he’d found it. “Yeah, no. Fuck no. Not now, Bogue, you can wait.”

Vasquez freezes, every muscle in his body locking up as his mouth goes suddenly, horrifically dry. “Bogue?” He chokes out, praying he’d either heard wrong, or that it was some sort of terrible coincidence.

Joshua freezes too, his eyes widening as he tears them away from his still buzzing pocket to stare at Vasquez’s face. “Um,” he says awkwardly. “Do me a favor and pretend you didn’t hear that, please. I’m in for a world of grief if I break confidentiality with work.”

“Work,” Vasquez says hollowly. “What kind of work?” He keeps going even though he doesn’t want to. “Why won’t you ever say what kind of work?”

Now Joshua looks shifty. He’s trying not to, but Vasquez has spent so much time in his company over the course of their relationship that it’s impossible not to tell. “It’s complicated,” he says. “And it’s not important.”

Not important, Vasquez thinks hysterically. God above, why had he waited so long to press this? “You’ve said that before. Tell me something about it. Tell me _anything_. Who’s Bogue?”

“No one nice,” Joshua says, which isn’t what Vasquez had been expecting even if it is true. “He’s – I work for him, at least for now. Contract work.”

“Yes, you’ve said that before.” Vasquez holds himself perfectly still and tries to make keep his voice normal. If Joshua is what he now suspects him to be then not only is he not on the enjoyable date he’d been hoping for, he’s flat out in danger. “What does it mean?”

“It means all kinds of things.” Joshua says. He frowns. “Why are you askin’ me this? I thought you had somethin’ you needed to say?”

“I did – do,” Vasquez amends. “But you distracted me. Tell me about your work.”

“I can’t,” Joshua insists, and he’s got a hunted look to him now, like a dog that’s done something it knows it shouldn’t have but is still hoping you won’t notice.

“No? Not anything? Anything at all?” Vasquez keeps pressing. He has to know. He has to be _sure._

“Oh, for -.” Joshua makes an annoyed sound. Vasquez would laugh at his frustration, but there’s nothing funny about what’s happening here, not when it feels like his entire world is unravelling right in front of him.

“He’s a fuckin’ – I don’t even know what to call him. Real estate baron? Fancy criminal is more like. He is _not_ a good man, let’s put it that way.”

“And yet you work for him.” Vasquez points out.

“Man’s gotta eat,” Joshua says with a shrug.

Of course, the question is, what is it he’s doing to be able to eat. “So you’ve worked for this man for a long time then?”

“No,” Joshua denies, and that shouldn’t help but somehow it does. “He was, aw fuck it. He had some dumbass project on the go out in California and ran into some trouble. Now he’s having the same problem here and called in an expert to deal with it.”

“And you’re the expert?” Vasquez asks, his voice having lost all highs and lows. This is worse than he’d thought. Joshua isn’t just one of Bogue’s hired goons, he’s a hunter. A goddamned, murdering hunter.

And he’s still holding Vasquez in his arms.

“Technically, but, funny thing. I’m thinking of getting out of the game.”

Vasquez blinks and sits up slowly. “What do you mean?”

Still lying stretched out on the lounge chair, Joshua gazes up at him with a hopeful look on his face. “You remember how you were scoldin’ me for never settlin’ down or tryin’ to make a home for myself? Well, I’ve been thinkin’ about that and … and, well.” He licks his lips and brushes visibly trembling fingers over Vasquez’s forearm.

Part of Vasquez wants to break out in hysterical laughter – the only thing stopping him the fact that that’s an outright dangerous reaction right now. It sounds like Joshua is about to offer him exactly what he’d been hoping for not ten minutes ago.

He’s also, as it happens, just given Vasquez the perfect way out of here.

“No.” He says firmly. “I – if you’re about to say what I think you are, the answer is no.”

“What?” Joshua’s eyes go wide, and he looks like Vasquez has just hauled off and slapped him. Good, let him feel as poleaxed as Vasquez does right now, if for a very different reason.

“I’m not,” Vasquez starts. “I can’t,” he says instead. “I have to go.”

He climbs out of Joshua’s lap, deliberately avoiding the other man’s flailing grasp.

“Wait,” Joshua says, and he sounds hurt. He sounds so, incredibly hurt, the kind of hurt where the part of Vasquez that still doesn’t believe what’s happening wants to turn around and comfort him. He doesn’t though. He can’t.

“Damnit, Alejandro, wait. Please!” Joshua’s still reaching for him, sounding desperate in a way he never has before, but Vasquez backs away nimbly, easily evading his hand. “Look, I’m sorry. I obviously read the situation wrong, but I won’t bring it up again, I promise. Just, please don’t leave.”

Vasquez shakes his head and backs towards the way they’d come in. All he has to do is hit the stairs and he’s positive Joshua won’t be able to catch him. “I have to go,” he says again. “You have to let me go.”

The slapped expression comes back to Joshua’s face. He’s on his feet now, but he looks stricken, looks wrecked, like Vasquez is somehow the one who’s done more damage here tonight than he is. He doesn’t move to follow, however, and Vasquez breathes a sigh of relief as he reaches the exit with more and more space growing between them.

He takes one last look at Joshua, standing on the patio with his shoulders slumping, and whirls around into the stairwell. It’s possible he hears Joshua says his name one last time, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to go back and find out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all sooooo much for being so enthusiastic about this silly little (or not so little, really) story of mine. I'm blown away by how much you all like this and all the lovely things you've had to say!! :D

Emma and Jack are sitting out on the front porch when Vasquez gets back, Jack half asleep in a chair and Emma reclined in the swing, sipping slowly at something from a mug in her hands.

“Well, well, if it isn’t lover boy home early for once.” Emma says, only half paying attention to him as her attention is focused on her drink. “Dare I ask what’s managed to pull you away from your fella?”

She does look up then, and some or all of what he’s feeling must show on his face because she freezes. “What happened?”

Vasquez runs agitated hands through his hair, no doubt making it even more of a wild mess than it already is. “Madre de Dios, what didn’t happen? Where’s Sam? Fuck, where’s everyone? Is everyone inside?”

Emma starts to rise out her chair in concern. “What’s going -?” She starts to ask, but Vasquez cuts her off with a frantic swipe of his hand through the air.

“Not now!” He snarls, “Just tell me where the others are.”

“They’re inside,” Emma snaps, some of her worry being overtaken by her rising ire at his tone. “What's going on? You can’t just come stomping in here, pretty as you please and start barking -!”

“Bogue’s here.” He says flatly, all of the emotion leeching from his voice as he’s forced to say the words aloud for the first time since he’d found out.

She freezes, but Jack’s spurred into action and he’s up and out of his chair faster than a man of his age and size should be able to manage. “I’ll get the others,” he says, already moving towards the front door. “Meet us in the living room as soon as you’re ready.” He vanishes into the house, and the sound of the door slamming behind him rings out into the night.

This seems to set Emma moving again as she gives a vicious shake of her head and crosses into Vasquez’s personal space, only stopping to rest her mug somewhere it won’t inadvertently get knocked over as she goes. “What happened?” She demands.

He hates how angry she sounds, her voice dark and furious, even though he knows it’s directed at Bogue, at the man who’d seen Matthew cold and in the ground, rather than him. Knowing that does nothing to help. He shakes his head, fighting to clear it, but just as equally fighting her request for an answer.

She’s having none of it, though, and she curls her hands around his biceps, shaking him in a way that’s both a warning and a request for him to focus. “Vasquez.”

“Joshua’s a hunter, or if not a hunter then at least something I don’t want to think about,” he says, the words tumbling out of him in such a muddled jumble he’s surprised she can understand them. “He – he, we were talking about, shit, I don’t even remember what, and he said something about how Bogue was someone he never should have come to work for or didn't like working for. Something like that. That’s how I know Bogue is here. Because Joshua told me without meaning to.”

He’s expecting her to yell and shake him and note how much danger he’s put them all in by being stupid enough to almost let a hunter into their midst. He’s expecting all of that, and it’s why what she does do is so much worse.

“Oh, Alejandro,” she says, using his first name like she does every so often. Then she folds him up in a hug, bringing his head down so that he can bury his face in the curve of her neck and hide away from the world for just a moment. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not fair,” he tells her shoulder, hating the way his voice cracks. “It’s not _fair_.”

“No,” she agrees, bringing one hand up to run her fingers soothingly through his hair, while the other she runs in a circle over his back. “You’re right, it isn’t fair.”

“I wanted …” he starts to say, but he trails off when the words won’t come.

“I know,” Emma says, not needing them. She keeps up the slow sweep of her fingers through his hair, her touch gentle in a way Emma usually isn’t. “I haven’t forgotten what you said, and I remember what it feels like – to be right on the cusp of bringing someone into a pack. I can’t imagine how I’d have felt if Matthew had turned out to be like this.”

She stiffens then, her back going ramrod straight. “Oh my god. What we talked about yesterday – did you tell him? Does he know?”

He shakes his head fervently and holds her tighter, no longer caring about what he looks like. “I never got the chance. He let his news slip first, and I took off as soon as I could. He's been calling my phone ever since, but I haven't answered.” The enormity of what's happened, of what he’d almost done, is still weighing heavy on his shoulders, but if there’s anything approaching a silver lining in this mess it’s that he’d kept his mouth shut just long enough to have maybe saved all their lives.

Not that that makes him feel any better right now.

“I should have known better,” he mumbles, not missing the way Emma once again goes stiff at his words. “We don’t get to be happy, or at least I don’t.”

Emma pulls back then, clasping Vasquez’s face in her hands and shaking him a little. “You deserve to be happy,” she says. “And you sure as shit deserve better than this. I may not know how things are going to play out, but I do know that much.”

Vasquez takes a deep breath. His head feels foggy, like it’s too crowded all of a sudden, and he needs some distance to focus. He takes a step back, not entirely out of Emma’s arms, but enough that he’s no longer outright clinging to her. “We have more immediate problems to deal with than my – than this.”

Emma makes a face like she’s considering not letting him go, but in the end doesn’t stop him, instead letting her hands fall down and come to rest by her sides. She sighs. “You’re right. If Bogue really is here than we need to face it. Let's get inside.”

*****

“This is insane!” Billy snaps when they’re all gathered in the living room. Beside him, Goodnight flinches at the sound of his normally placid partner’s raised voice, and Billy brushes the fingers of one hand over his shoulder in silent apology.

Goodnight gives him a small smile in return and then turns back to the rest of the group. “I don’t know if insane is the word I’d choose, but this is certainly unexpected to say the least.”

“Is it really, though?” Emma asks. She’s seated on one of the sofas with Teddy on one side and Jack and the other, while Sam hovers not far away near the arm of the piece of furniture in question. “Think about it,” she continues when all eyes have focused on her. “We may have run, but we ruined Bogue’s project in Rose Creek before we left. Now, I don’t know about you, Goody, but he never struck me as the kind of man who'd take a slight like that lying down.”

“Emma’s right,” Sam says, cutting Goodnight off when it looks like he might disagree. “Bogue’s the kind of man who’ll slap down anyone who has the nerve to get in his way just because he can. He’s a born bully, and we painted targets on our backs the second we stood up to him.”

There’s a moment of silence throughout the room as they all digest this. It’s broken by Jack. Their oldest member isn’t always as aware of what’s going on around him as some, but he focuses fine when he needs to. “If Bogue’s brought in a hunter,” he says slowly, “he’s upping his game. He didn’t know what he was getting into back in Rose Creek, didn’t know what we were, but if there’s a hunter involved now that means he’s done his homework.”

“And that’s assuming there’s only one hunter,” Billy points out. He shrugs when they all turn to look at him. “What? If I’m Bogue, I’m not going to hire only one person to help me, I’m going to get all the help I can find. The more experts the better.”

“Good point,” Sam agrees. “Vasquez, what’d you say Joshua's last name is?”

“Hmm?” At the sound of his own name, Vasquez looks up from where he’s been trying his best to remain invisible and frowns in confusion. “It’s Faraday. Why do you want to know?”

“Because sometimes these folks travel in packs of their own, though I can’t say that one rings a bell.” Sam makes a thoughtful noise and cocks his head in Jack’s direction. “You’ve been around longer than me, old man. Traveled more too. That name mean anything to you?”

Jack frowns in obvious concentration as he tries to make his occasionally spotty memory work for him. “Seems to me I might have heard the name a time or two, stemming from one of the Carolinas, I think. This one was a woman though.”

“Not the same person then,” Sam says, stating the obvious.

Jack shakes his head. “No. Plus, now that I think about it, I seem to recall hearing she died some years back on top of everything else.”

Vasquez frowns as a thought occurs to him. “Did she have any children?” When Jack raises a confused eyebrow at him, he clarifies. “Joshua was raised by a single mother who died about ten years ago. He said they moved around a lot.”

“Could be the same family then,” Jack admits, “but I couldn’t say for certain.”

“Does it matter?” Billy cuts in. He glances back and forth between them all, the look on his face making it clear what he feels the correct answer to be. “Not to sound like a cliché, but the only good hunter is a dead one. Who cares who this guy may or may not be related to?”

Something inside of Vasquez twists at the suggestion, however implicit, of killing Joshua, but he makes a point to keep his face impassive.

“Why don’t we cross that bridge when we come to it?” Sam decides, shooting Vasquez a look that he can’t parse out the meaning of. “Right now we need to do two things. First, we need to confirm if Bogue is really here, and then we need to figure out what kind of backing he has with him. Until we know that, we won’t be able to try and come up with a way out of this.”

He takes a deep breath and looks at Vasquez again. “Sorry to keep putting you on the spot, but have you got any idea where we might want to start looking?”

“Why would I know that?” Vasquez asks. “Joshua never took me to work with him, Sam.”

“No, he wouldn’t, not if he does what we think he does for a living, but he might have let something slip without meaning to.” Sam’s eyes are kind as he speaks, but his voice is firm nevertheless. “Think. Did he ever mention anywhere he might have to go when he wasn’t on his own?”

Vasquez wracks his brain, trying to think of anything that might be helpful. “He mentioned Bogue’s been working in real estate?” He says slowly. “He called him a – a real estate baron, I think it was.” He doesn’t add that Joshua hadn’t seemed to care much for his employer. The others didn’t need to know that, and most of them wouldn’t care either.

“Well, he’s certainly been in that market before,” Emma acknowledges. “That was what he was doing in Rose Creek. We should check out new developments, see if there’s anything going up that he might have his fingers in.” She frowns. "There's that weird condominium development going up on the other side of town, for starters. The one that's basically a small town all on its own? That could be exactly what we're looking for."

“That’s not much to go on,” Goodnight says dubiously, frowning as he scratches at a patch of his scraggly, graying beard.

“No,” Sam agrees, “but we need a place to start and that's as good a one as any.”

“We,” Goodnight says flatly, and next to him Billy starts bristling the way he does any time someone suggests an idea that might upset his partner.

“Not you,” Sam says quickly. “Someone has to stay with Red and Teddy – no, you two aren’t coming.” He adds when Red jerks his head up with an obvious complaint forming on his lips. “You’ll stay here with Goody, and the rest of us will go have a look. Don’t argue with me.”

Teddy looks content with this, but Red’s nod, although it does come, has a mutinous air about it that might spell trouble down the road.

Sam holds the younger were’s gaze for a few moments, waiting until Red nods again before he break eye contact. “Right then,” he says once he’s done this. “It's late enough now that we'll start looking tomorrow. Let’s see what we can find out.”

*****

“I’m sorry, what do you mean you’re leaving?” Bogue doesn’t so much as raise his voice, but the expression on his face makes it clear he has no intention of accepting Faraday’s resignation graciously.

For his part, Faraday doesn’t give a flying fuck. He’s too busy getting caught up in the whirlwind that is his own emotions to care about pissing off a man with Bogue’s clout. He's spent the last twenty four hours trying to get Alejandro to answer his damn phone, and since that obviously isn't working he's getting the hell out of dodge. “You heard me,” he says flatly, doing his best to hide how off kilter he is. “I’m takin’ off. This job is a bust, Bogue. I’ve outfitted your buildings with every wolf trap in the book and a few that aren’t, but if there ain’t any wolves around then there ain’t any wolves around. I’ve already spent way more time in this town than I needed to.”

“I thought that was because you had agreed to see this project through.” Bogue says mildly.

“Then you thought wrong,” Faraday replies. There’s no way in hell he’s telling Bart Bogue his real reason for sticking around as long as he has. No, he’s just going to leave and be done with it. The quicker he can get out of this town and never come back, the better. Never mind his previous, fleeting hope that he’d be able to make a life here.

Bogue gives him another one of those implacable stares. Faraday gets the sense that he’s expected to find it disconcerting, but mainly it just annoys him. “Mr. Faraday, I am not in the habit of putting long term effort into a project and then not getting results. That’s the kind of thing I find upsetting.”

Faraday shrugs. “I warned you from the beginning I wouldn’t be able to do anything if I couldn’t find the things, and honestly? Bogue, I believe you when you say you got attacked by a pack out in Rose Creek, you had more than enough evidence to prove as much. However, at this point I’m not convinced _this_ whole deal isn’t just a fit of paranoia on your part. We haven’t seen hide nor hair of a single wolf. Not one!”

“That doesn’t mean they aren’t here.” Bogue says. He still sounds just as cool as ever, but there’s a tension starting to brew just below the surface that sends warning bells ringing in the back of Faraday’s head.

Faraday bites back a curse. He knows he’s being unprofessional here, and even with a man like Bogue there’s no excuse for that. It’s just, the longer he stays in this town, the longer he’s going to see Alejandro repeating the words _I have to go. You have to let me go._ every time he closes his eyes. He needs to leave, and he needs to leave now, the job be damned.

He unclenches his jaw with effort and stares over at Bogue. “Unless you can convince me right this moment that there’s as much to this mess as you seem to believe, I am done.”

Bogue opens his mouth to reply, and it just stands to reason that the security system Faraday had personally installed chooses now to start blaring.

*****

There’s a central room where the security feeds from all the cameras that have been installed flow into. The alarm can either be set off by something tripping it outside, or by someone inside sounding it upon seeing anything that's deemed to be a threat. As he pounds into the room with Bogue and a trio of goons on his heels, Faraday learns that the alarm is going off for the latter reason.

“Damnit, McCann,” he growls when his eyes fall on the man guilty of setting the noise blaring. “If I find out this is you being a trigger happy bastard, I’m going to personally kick your ass into next week.”

McCann starts to sputter his response, but Bogue’s other head goon – Denali, the one who hardly ever speaks – cuts him off.

“It wasn’t him. Look.” The large man points at one of the screens on the bank of monitors, and Faraday has to fight back a sudden urge to go bash his head against the nearest wall as a furred, four legged shape flits across the video feed for only a moment.

“There’s no guarantee it’s a were,” he says, holding up a hand in a vain attempt to prevent an outcry from echoing through the room. “A single shot like that doesn’t prove anything.”

“The hell is doesn’t,” McCann snaps. He gestures viciously at the screen as the clip scrolls across it again. “I don’t know about you, Faraday, but the only canines I’ve seen in my life that were that fucking big were of the damned werewolf variety.”

Which was fair enough. As much as Faraday didn’t want to admit it, the animal in the video was much larger than a regular wolf, let alone a dog.

“We’ve got another one,” a different goon barked, and Faraday moves over to peer behind the man’s shoulder.

“Damn.” He breathes. This time the wolf is on screen for longer, and it’s what it’s doing that finally convinces Faraday of what’s going on. “It’s trying to avoid being seen,” he mutters, watching as the wolf cranes it’s neck around in a circle, flinching and backing away the moment it’s eyes spot the security camera. Normal wolves would never do something like that.

Growling, he turns to glare over at Bogue. “I have to tell you, Bart. I find it awful suspicious that these things would be showing up at the exact moment when I’m about to terminate our contract.”

For the first time since Faraday had met the man, Bogue drops his mask of cool indifference. “Mr. Faraday, I assure you, I had absolutely nothing to do with this. Truth be told, I’d much rather you had turned out to be right, and my belief that these mongrels had followed me was all in my head. However, it appears they have, so what everything boils down to is what are you going to do about it?”

“Me?” Faraday demands.

“Yes, you.” Bogue replies. “My understanding was that you were intending to leave because there was no evidence of werewolves on my property.” He extends his hand in a sweeping gesture towards the monitors. “There’s your evidence, so I’m assuming our agreement is back on.”

Faraday hisses an angry breath out through his teeth. As much as he’d like to back away at this point, he really can’t justify it in the face of an unknown number of wolves. Hell, for all he knows, the pack has this place surrounded and they’re going to have to fight their way out. “Fine,” he says, suddenly pleased he’d decided to wear some of his guns when he’d come to tender his resignation. “Here’s what I need you to do.”

*****

Vasquez is moving low to the ground along one part of the development Emma had done some added looking into when he's distracted by a familiar scent coming towards him. That distraction it means he’s moving too late to do anything helpful. A shot rings out and seconds later is followed by a pained howl as a bullet catches Jack, who's covering this area with him, in the meat of his shoulder and sends him spinning around, his entire right front leg buckling as it loses the ability to hold his weight.

In the distance, Vasquez hears Joshua swear under his breath.

“What was that?” Asks a tinny voice, one that sounds like it’s coming from far away. Vasquez can still only smell one person, so he figures Joshua must be wearing an earpiece or something similar.

“Fucker was moving faster than I’d compensated for and I only winged him.” Joshua mutters. “He’s behind some of those packing crates now, and I don’t have a clear shot. I’m goin’ to have to go in closer to get him.”

“Well, do it!” The tinny voice snaps. “The boss ain’t paying you to sit around and look pretty, Faraday. Move your ass!”

“Fuck off, McCann. You worry about doin’ your job, and let me worry about mine.” Joshua growls, and the other voice gets cut off mid-shout. Vasquez can’t be certain, but it sounds like Joshua’s either turned off the earpiece or ditched it outright. He doesn’t know what to make of that – what he does know is that he has to get to Jack.

Keeping low to the ground he edges out from his hiding spot and starts slinking in his friend’s direction, hoping against hope that whatever reinforcements Joshua has coming are far enough back that they won’t get here in time.

He spots Jack as he comes around a stack of building supplies. The old were is struggling to his feet in spite of his injured limb, blood from the wound staining his coat and glistening in the dim light as he tries to slowly limp away as best as he can. There’s no way he’s going to be fast enough to get out of the way under his own power, which is why it’s up to Vasquez to provide a distraction.

As Joshua is about to round the final corner and put himself within range to take aim again, Vasquez darts across the space between them and slams bodily into him, the impact such that it sends them both tumbling to the ground – Vasquez in a flurry of limbs and Joshua in one of curses. Vasquez gets himself sorted out first, and he scrambles up onto his paws and backs away from where Joshua’s still on his back, deliberately keeping the man’s attention on him.

“Motherfucker,” Joshua grits out, reaching for the gun that had gone flying out of his hand when he’d hit the ground. Behind him, Vasquez can see Jack backing away from the area as quickly as his injury will let him.

If Vasquez can keep Joshua distracted for long enough, Jack will be able to get clear, and hopefully one or more of the others will reach him. With that in mind, Vasquez makes a series of aborted lunges in Joshua’s direction, snarling to keep him focused on him.

“Fuck,” Joshua says again. “And I thought your buddy was a big bastard.”

Part of Vasquez wants to laugh because of course even in a situation like this Joshua is going to run his mouth just as much as ever, of course he is. Unfortunately, Joshua manages to get his hand back on his gun, and Vasquez ducks behind a collection of materials as the man’s arm comes up and he pulls the trigger.

The bullets don’t come anywhere near him, missing by a wide margin, but Joshua’s armed again and that means Vasquez needs to leave. He comes out from his spot of relative cover, once again because he wants to have Joshua stay focused on him. Legs scrambling, he whirls around until he can look Joshua straight on, and then he dances backwards, trying to telegraph ‘chase me, chase me’ as clearly as he can.

It must work because Joshua lets out a growl of his own and climbs to his feet. “Alright, jackass,” he grunts, “if you want to play, we’ll play. Though, for the record, I am having a shitty night and ain’t in the mood.”

Vasquez takes this as his cue to leave, and he darts around again, this time heading away from Joshua in earnest, ducking and dodging as he goes in order to make himself a more difficult target. He hears the sound of Joshua’s heavy boots on the pavement as he goes, indicating that the man is closer than he’d like, but he’s also only human and therefore doesn’t have a hope of catching Vasquez unless he gets a proper shot off. All Vasquez needs to do is shake him off, and he should be home free.

He spots an alleyway up ahead and heads for it, fully intending to get himself off the main route and try and evade Joshua as best as he can. It’s only belatedly that he realizes this particular street doesn’t have an exit, and he’s damn well trapped himself with no way out. He turns back around, hoping he can get out again before anyone can figure out where he’s gotten to, but it’s no use – Joshua’s closer than he’d realized and he reaches the mouth of the alleyway before Vasquez manages to get out again.

A cold chill of fear sparks along Vasquez’s spine as he sees the man coming, and backs towards the wall that’s trapped him in here for lack of anything better to do. Once he hits that, he whines low in his throat and considers his options. There is one thing he can try. It’s a long shot, but as far as he’s concerned it’s better to pull out all of the stops rather just lying down and dying. He watches as Joshua begins drawing nearer, apparently content to take his time now that his prey is cornered, and starts to shift.

*****

Faraday realizes the wolf’s unwittingly trapped itself as he charges into the alleyway after it, gun cocked in his hand and with the adrenaline of a good hunt coursing through his veins. It’s made the drastic mistake of darting into a spot with no exit, a bricked up cul-de-sac that it can’t possibly hope to scale. There’s a metal stairway a few feet above them that it might have been able to climb up in human form, but even that might be pushing it. Weres are more athletic than most, but Faraday has his doubts even this one would be able to pull that off.

“Well, alright now,” he says lightly as he moves further into the alleyway. He keeps his gun trained on the wolf, which has turned to face him now – its back to the wall and its ears flat against its skull in an obvious sign of alarm. It’s a massive animal, he thinks as he presses closer, bigger even than most of its kind that he’s come across in his work, albeit leaner and rangier than its packmate that he’d previously put a bullet in. Maybe they just make them plain huge in this neck of the woods.

The wolf snaps at him now, razor sharp fangs flashing as it scrabbles back away from him, whining low and distressed while it goes.

“Oh come on,” Faraday tells it, “we know you’ve been a naughty thing, and this is what happens to naughty things like you, they get put down.” He raises his gun until it’s aimed to put a bullet right between the wolf’s eyes.

The wolf whines again and this time its entire body shudders. Faraday realizes what it’s doing too late and lets out a groan as patches of fur start disappearing in front of him only to be replaced with human skin. He hates it when they do this, when they shift back to a human shape like they think there’s some vain hope he’ll be less likely to kill them. It might make the clean up a little more difficult, but he’s still plenty skilled in that department.

“For hell’s sake,” he mutters, thumbing the trigger absently. Since a half human half animal corpse potentially showing up in the city morgue would result in all sorts of unfortunate questions, he has to wait until the wolf is either one or the other before he finishes it off. It’s a good thing they have to complete the change once they’ve started it, otherwise this could take all night.

It’s maybe not the smartest thing to do – okay it’s _really_ not the smartest thing to do – but Faraday closes his eyes as the change starts speeding up. He hates how the werefolk look when they’re mid-shift, grotesque enough to seem even more like something out of a horror film, and he never watches if he’s in a position to avoid it. It’s not until he hears the sound of heavy, very human breathing that he cracks his eyes back open. However, what he sees sends a tremor of shock coursing through him, one so powerful that he damn near loses his grip on his gun when it happens.

“No,” he hisses. “Damnit, no!”

Alejandro, sprawled on the pavement with his back pressed up against the wall that had prevents him from escaping stares up at him, his dark eyes wide and frightened. As Faraday watches with a sick twist in his gut the were (the goddamned _were_ ) swallows heavily. “If you’re going to kill me, geuro, you’re at least going to look me in the eye when you do it.”

His voice is surprisingly steady, no doubt buoyed by a considerable amount of false bravado if the way he can't quite stop one of his hands from shaking is any indication.

Faraday bites back the urge to swear some more. This can’t be happening. He can’t possibly, no matter how unintentionally, have crawled into bed with a werewolf. There is just no way. And yet, here they were, and there was and he had. Even worse, he’d enjoyed every moment of it, getting closer to another person than he had in years, all while completely unaware that his sole purpose for being in this town was to put down this man and his kind like a bunch of rabid animals.

Except Alejandro wasn’t an animal, or he certainly wasn’t a wild one anyway. Faraday had spent more than enough time in the man’s company to be confident that he wasn’t out committing the acts Bogue had accused him of. And if Alejandro wasn’t what Bogue claimed him to be, who was to say the same wasn’t true for the rest of his pack?

His own hands now shaking, Faraday takes a few stumbling steps back, desperate to put some distance between himself and the man at his feet. As he goes, his eyes, frantically trying to look any anything but Alejandro, land on the metal stairway he’d first seen upon ducking down into the alleyway. Remembering his earlier thought about how this might be an escape route for a werewolf in human form, Faraday makes a decision.

Alejandro wasn’t a rabid animal, and even if he was Faraday didn’t have it in him to put him down. This is why he slips his gun back into its holster and raises his hands ever so slightly to show he’s no longer carrying anything dangerous.

“You see the stairs up there? The ones above you?”

Frowning, Alejandro twists his head briefly to see what Faraday’s pointing at and then nods. “Si.”

“Can you reach them from down here?”

The question makes Alejandro snort. “Of course.”

Faraday breathes a sigh of relief. “Good. We can’t both of us walk back out of this place the way we came in. Well, what the hell are you waiting for?” He demands, when Alejandro apparently fails to put two and two together and just keeps frowning at him in confusion. “Go on. Get out of here!”

Alejandro’s eyes widen. “You’re letting me go?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Faraday snaps. “And stop wasting time. Bogue’s head of security knew which way I was heading, so you need to be haulin’ ass immediately. _Go_!”

This last demand seems to do the trick because Alejandro twists and is halfway up the staircase before Faraday can so much as blink. He’s out of sight far quicker than even Faraday – who’s been studying werewolves since he was still sitting on his Ma’s knee – could have imagined, leaving Faraday alone with nothing but his own ragged breathing roaring in his ears.

*****

Faraday stumbles back out of the alleyway, his thoughts going a mile a minute, and almost slams into McCann as the jackass comes bolting around the corner. “Goddamnit, you asshole!” he snarls, grateful to have a target to take his frustrations out on. “Can’t you people do anything right?”

McCann glares at him. “I think I should be asking you the same damn thing, Faraday. Did you get the fucking mutt or not?”

“No, I did not,” Faraday snaps, stomping down heavily on the urge to clock McCann right in the teeth. That was Alejandro the bastard was talking about, and confusion be damned, Faraday did not want to hear anyone refer to him that way. “He was halfway up that stairwell before I even got here and he’s long gone now.”

McCann swears, low and mean. “For fuck’s sakes. I knew hiring you was a mistake. I can’t believe the boss went for it. What good are you if you can’t kill so much as one of those damned animals?”

It’s at this point that Faraday feels something within him snap, and he’s got McCann pinned to the bricks of the alley, his hand wrapped tightly around the man’s throat, before he’s made a conscious motion to do so. “Now you listen to me, asshole,” he says, leaning in close and ignoring the way McCann struggles against him. “I am _very_ good at what I do, and what I do is kill people regardless of what shape they’re in. Exactly how much do you want to test me right now?”

Choking, McCann shakes his head until Faraday lets him go with a flick of his wrist. “That’s what I thought,” he growls as McCann falls to his knees, gasping for breath. “What happened to the other wolf? The one I hit before I came down here?”

“It’s gone,” McCann hisses, his voice garbled. “More wolves showed up before we could reach it and we didn’t have enough people down here to take them on.”

Faraday’s relieved to hear this, but he can’t let that show. Lashing out with one foot, he kicks the wall a few inches away from McCann’s ear, feeling gratified when it makes the bastard jump. “Of course you fuckin’ didn’t! And you have the nerve to imply I’m the weak link in this mess. Honestly, I’m half tempted to just shoot you on principle.”

McCann gets to his feet at this, and the glare he gives Faraday would likely unsettle a lesser man. “You’d better watch yourself, Faraday. You ain’t one of ours, and I don’t give a fuck how good you think you are, I will put a bullet right between your shoulders if I think for one second you’re out of line.”

Faraday snorts, unconcerned. “Why am I not surprised? You sure look like someone who’d shoot a man in the back rather than face to face.”

McCann growls, but Faraday ignores him. Turning on one heel he starts heading in the direction of Bogue’s head offices. He’s got a lot to think about, but if he doesn’t go through the motions of a debrief Bogue will know something’s up and that can’t happen.

The only way out of this mess is to figure out exactly what he’s dealing with and plan accordingly. With a little luck maybe he’ll even make it out of this alive.

*****

Vasquez hits the gound back in wolf shape with his mind racing. Admittedly, he’d shifted back in the alley for the sole purpose of using it to keep Joshua from killing him, he just hadn’t expected for it to work, and his thoughts are a mass of confusion as he tears along the outskirts of the development in the hope that he can get out of here and back to the others without running into more problems.

Unfortunately, tonight continues not to be his night, and he doesn’t notice the disguised pit until it’s too late. He’s moving at a speed where he almost makes it across before it gives out beneath him, but it’s not fast enough in the end. He plummets to the bottom with a startled yelp, landing in a heap some ten feet below where he’d started from, thankfully without breaking anything as a result of the fall.

Frustrated, he takes quick stock of his surroundings before gathering his legs under him and jumping. It workds about as well as he’s expecting, and his front paws fall a good two feet short of the lip of the pit. Growling, he paces the confines of the trap, considering whether or not it’s worth the risk to shift back to human and try and climb out that way.

Voices sounds out in the distance, and he flattens his ears against his head, not bothering to contain a snarl when three mean appear at the top of his prison. “Damn.” The one in the middle lets out a low whistle. “So, that’s what one of these things look like up close.”

“Guess so,” says another. “Big fucker, ain’t he?”

“Big enough that I don’t want to mess with him without back up,” the first one agrees. “You boys remember what the boss said?”

“Yeah,” says the third one, speaking for the first time. As Vasquez watches, he raises the rifle in his hands and takes careful aim. “Though I still don’t get why the hell he wants to do it this way.”

Vasquez has only a moment to wonder what he means by this when the man pulls the trigger and a stinging sensation blooms in one of his haunches. He jerks around to see the dart now embedded there, already stumbling as whatever drug they’ve just pumped into his system starts to take effect.

The last thing he hears as he hits the ground is an annoyed voice saying, “Now, how the fuck do we get it out of there?”

*****

When Vasquez wakes up he’s no longer lyng on dirt ground, but metal flooring. He shakes his head to try and clear it, and is surprised to realize he hasn’t been tied down or otherwise restrained. Then he raises his head and determines that’s not exactly correct. He’s no longer in the pit, to be sure, instead he’s in a small, windowless room with a large, heavy door that he’s not going to place much hope on its being unlocked.

Getting up on his feet is harder than he’d like to admit, and even once he’s there it’s questionable as to how long he’s going to be able to stay upright. He lets out a whine before he can stop himself, momentarily overwhelmed as the extent of his predicament washes over him. This goes on for longer than he’d care to admit, but he is eventually able to tamp it back down.

However, it’s possible someone hears what noise he does make because there’s a clicking sound and the door he’d first noticed upon waking up pushes open to admit two heavily armed men. Vasquez bares his teeth at them as they come in, his hackles rising as he does so, but makes no directs moves towards them since he doesn’t much relish the thought of them shooting him out of the misplaced belief he’s a threat.

Admittedly, he _is_ a threat to them – he’s fully capable of tearing either of their throats out with his teeth, and that’s not touching what he can do with his claws - but he doesn’t want _them_ knowing that. Not yet, anyway.

Both men eye him warily, their fingers curling pointedly around the triggers of their weapons, but otherwise they don’t make any moves towards him. He’s trying to figure out why that might be when they take up positions on either side of the doorway and drop into identical poses. He tilts his head, waiting to see what they’ll do next, and has a feeling of dread pool in his belly when a third man walks in.

The newcomer is a smaller man with a slender build, one Vasquez would classify as non-threatening if he wasn’t one hundred percent sure of who he is. They’ve never met before, him and Bart Bogue, only Emma and Sam have had that pleasure as far as the pack is concerned, but Vasquez is positive it’s the man in question who’s now standing in front of him with a slight frown on his face.

“You know,” Bogue says slowly, “I had figured there would be something about your kind that would set you apart when I finally got near enough to see it for myself, but there isn’t, you’re just great big dogs. Great big dogs that is, who’ve caused me a whole world of difficulty.”

Vasquez glares up at him, baring his teeth again. If this man is going to kill him then so be it, he’s not going to try and play nice on the off chance it might stem whatever violence he has in mind.

Bogue makes a dismissive noise, clearly unimpressed by Vasquez’s actions. “You have big teeth, Grandma,” he says with a twist of his lips, “but I’ve got bigger guns. In fact,” he gestures at the guard on his left side with one hand, and the man obediently raises his weapon, “I’m going to make you an offer. Either show me what you look like as a human, or Lucas here will take care of you permanently.”

Vasquez cocks his head in surprise, wondering why in the hell the man would want to see something like that. He thinks about it until Lucas’ finger starts twitching on the trigger. If he had a choice he’d much rather stay in this form, as it’s the more dangerous of the two. On the other hand, so long as he’s alive there’s a chance that the rest of the pack might come for him. They can’t do that if he’s dead.

When Vasquez starts to shift both the guards take involuntary steps back, but Bogue holds his ground. Their gazes meet, neither of them willing to look away, and the corner of Bogue’s mouth turns up when Vasquez is left standing in front of him on two legs, unarmed and entirely at his mercy.

“Now, see, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Bogue’s eyes rake him up and down, and that’s arguably the most unpleasant thing that’s happened to him tonight. He barely prevents himself from shuddering. “Your coat’s the same color as your hair – is that always the case?”

Vasquez snorts. “Really, cabrón? You get a creature of the supernatural in your clutches and this is what you want to know?”

Bogue smiles at this and there’s nothing pleasant in his expression. “I can still have you killed, you know. Or have you forgotten how I’ve already proven that?”

The reminder of Matthew’s death at this man’s hands sets Vasquez’s throat working, but he bites back the building growl before it can escape. This isn’t the time. Bogue will get what’s coming to him eventually, and Vasquez needs to play his cards right if he wants to be there when it happens.

Bogue sniffs then, giving every indication that he’s gotten bored with whatever game he’s been playing. He nods at each of his men in turn, and they train their guns on Vasquez as if they’re afraid he might choose now to strike. Neither man relaxes when he makes no move to do anything, but Bogue flashes a wry smile as he looks Vasuez up and down again. He turns to the man on the right as he goes to leave the room. “Get him some clothes will you? We’re not animals here.”

Vasquez is treated to the sound of both guards snickering as they close the door behind them, leaving him alone with nothing but his thoughts for company.

*****

Faraday’s pacing back and forth in Bogue’s office when the door opens and the man in question slips through it, flanked by a guard detail that does nothing to help settle Faraday’s nerves. “Where the hell have you been?” He demands, not caring how he sounds. He’s been stuck in the room for over an hour after having been ordered up here by Denali. Part of him – all of him really – had wanted to refuse the order, and the only reason he hadn’t was due to his not wanting to tip his hand too soon.

His mind is reeling, his entire psyche awash with feelings of confusion and shock and lord knows what else. He’s already had at least one bout of hysterical laughter since coming up here, spurred on by the realization of just what, exactly, had made Alejandro flee from their little rooftop liaison so abruptly. Honestly, it must have been quite a shock for him when Faraday’d revealed he was working for the man trying to murder him and his family.

No wonder he hadn’t bothered to answer any of Faraday’s calls.

Bogue raises one eyebrow at Faraday’s tone, and the men on either side of him straighten their spines noticeably. Faraday still doesn’t care. “What in the name of fuck is goin’ on, Bogue? I understand you wantin’ to debrief after everythin’ that just happened, but this is ridiculous. I do not appreciate bein’ kept waitin’ like this.”

“You work for me, Mr. Faraday, not the other way around.” Bogue’s voice is as mild as ever, but there’s a look in his eye that might unsettle a man less riled than Faraday – one that gives a nod to something much nastier than expected lurking beneath his exterior.

“No,” Faraday corrects, once again starting to stomp back and forth along the length of the office. He knows he should calm down and shut up, but it seems like that ship has sailed and his damnable temper has won out against his will. “I work for me, and occasionally lend my services out to other people. For the past couple of months, you have been one such person, but that is it.”

“Yes,” Bogue says, his voice going icy in a way that gets through to Faraday’s hind brain in a way nothing else has to date. “As it happens, the issue of where your loyalties stand has been brought to my attention. If I may?” He nods at once of his henchmen, and the goon in question steps over to the large monitor located on one wall. The man hits a couple of buttons, and a familiar stretch of the development appears on screen.

There’s a clock ticking away in one corner of the video feed, showing a time stamp from earlier in the evening. As Faraday watches with a rising sense of tension, a dark shape goes streaking along the ground and ducks off to an alley on one side, just as had happened previously. Then, following close on the wolf’s heels, comes Faraday himself.

Faraday tries to appear nonchalant. “Bogue, is there a reason you have me watchin’ this? I assure you, my memory’s good enough that I haven’t forgotten what happened.”

“I’m sure you haven’t,” Bogue replies. “However, I’m also sure your stated version of events is somewhat different from those that actually took place.”

And that wasn’t good. Faraday has no idea what he’s done to tip Bogue off, but he is in way more trouble than he’d first realized. Even worse, he’s in this alone. There’s no one around who’s going to be coming to his rescue if this goes as far south as it’s looking like it will.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he says, stalling for time.

Bogue doesn’t even pretend to buy it for a second. Instead, he nods at the screen. “Do you want to know something interesting about this video? It involves the timing of what took place.”

“What?” Faraday asks, thrown for a loop.

“The timing,” Bogue repeats. “You went in their right on that thing's heels, and you told McCann that it was already human and climbing up the escape before you could get to it?”

“So?” Faraday demands. “That’s what happened.”

“No, it isn’t.” Bogue says, and there’s no room in his voice for argument. “You see, I just had a crash course in how long it takes these things to go from one form to the other. It couldn’t possibly have been human before you got in there, so it couldn’t possibly have been partway out of the alley by then. You’re lying, Mr. Faraday, and that is something I do not appreciate.”

Faraday snorts, aiming to put on as convincing a front as he can manage. “I ain’t lyin’. Who’s the wolf expert here, you or me?”

“Oh, you, to be sure,” Bogue agrees. “I imagine that’s why you thought you’d get away with this. Unfortunately, you’ve failed. Now tell me the truth. I know you let that wolf go. Tell me why.”

Saying a mental to hell with it, Faraday shrugs and tries not to think about how screwed he is. “You lied to me. This pack didn’t do anything to you. My guess is it’s the other way around, and you started this mess.”

“Not quite.” Bogue gives a slight shake of his head. “The first part of the story I told you was true. Those animals tried to drive me out of Rose Creek because they felt I was invading their territory, that really did happen. What I neglected to mention was that I went looking for them after they took off. It took some time to find them, mainly because I had to study and learn about what I was dealing with, but eventually I got a lead that they were settled somewhere nearby. That’s when I started up my latest development and got in touch with you.”

“You wanted me to flush them out, didn’t you?” Faraday asks as everything becomes clear. “And then you figured you could have me take care of them without getting your hands dirty. Let me guess, you planned to scapegoat me in the end.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Bogue says, smiling at Faraday like he’s a particularly dim child who’s just managed against all odds to say something insightful. “I made the mistake of leaving behind a were dead in its human shape last time – the only one out of nine that I managed to get my hands on – and I figured it’d be best if any bodies could be traced back to someone other than me.”

Faraday stares at him. “You’re insane,” he says finally. “Why do you even care about them? If you ran them off the last time, why didn’t you just leave them be?”

Boge gives him a pitying look. “They resisted me, Mr. Faraday. I can’t have that. I have a reputation to think of.”

And here Faraday had thought the man was insane before. He shakes his head, unable to belive what he’s hearing. “They’re harmless.” He says, even though he doesn’t actually know that for certain. He knows he trusts Alejandro and is willing to extend that trust to any pack he belongs to, but he doesn’t have anything besides his own blind faith to back that up.

Bogue doesn’t quite roll his eyes, but it’s a near thing. “You know, it’s funny you should say that. Obviously, I don’t share your belief in that statement, so what’s say we put it to the test.” He nods at his body guards. “Take him. Let’s go see if he’s right or if he gets himself eaten.”

*****

They throw him in what was probably once an old storage room. It’s dark and windowless and Faraday is thoroughly unimpressed with the whole situation. He tries to lunge for the door after he’s shoved inside, but unsurprisingly isn’t fast enough. It slams shut in his face, the sound of the lock turning with a resounding clicking noise, and he thumps a fist angrily against it even though he knows it’ll serve no purpose.

“That’s very smart,” a low, familiar voice rasps. “Just break your hand for no reason. What could possibly go wrong?”

Shocked, Faraday turns around. The room is poorly lit to say the least, with what little light there is coming from only a single, dusty bulb up near the ceiling, and he figures that’s why he hadn’t noticed his companion immediately upon arriving.

Alejandro quirks an eyebrow at him from where he’s sitting on the floor with his back pressed up against the far wall and his forearms resting on his knees. “Evening, cabrón,” he says sarcastically. “What brings you here tonight?”

Still flummoxed by finding himself sharing what amounts to a jail cell with a werewolf, especially _this_ werewolf, Faraday blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “I was tryin’ to do the right thing, if you must know.” Now he thinks he understands what Bogue had meant by that crack about possibly getting eaten. “The better question is what are _you_ doin’ here? Didn’t I tell you to skedaddle earlier tonight? How long have they had you?”

“A couple of hours,” Alejandro tells him. “Why do you care?”

Faraday supresses a sigh. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised by Alejandro’s sudden onset of attitude. “I’m not touchin’ that one right now,” he says wearily. “Why’d they toss you in here? From what I’ve now learned of Bogue he mainly kills werefolk on sight.”

Alejandro shrugs, spreading his hands, his long fingers splayed out as if to better illustrate his point. “I’d think that was obvious,” he says flatly. “I’m bait.”

Faraday frowns – it takes a moment before it clicks. There’s a whole pack of wolves in this town, and wolves didn’t tend to abandon one another without a fight. “Motherfucker,” Faraday hisses. “That lyin’ rat bastard. He wants to wipe you all out.”

Alejandro snorts, looking unimpressed. “What do you care? A couple hours ago you were helping him hunt us. You almost shot me. You _did_ shoot my friend. Don’t act like you’re innocent in all of this, Faraday, because we both know you’re not. In fact, you’re anything but.”

“Well obviously,” Faraday snaps back. “Why do you think I’m stuck in here, huh? For the good of my health? Do you think I just went out for an evenin’ stroll and somehow wandered into the base’s werewolf containment unit?” He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, praying that Alejandro will believe him even with how angry and betrayed he has to feel. “Bogue and his goons found out about me lettin’ you go before, and for some reason they decided this meant I couldn’t be trusted.”

“Ah, so even when you try to be noble you can’t even do that right,” Alejandro sneers. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Jesus wept,” Faraday barks, throwing up his hands. “Is this really what you want to do right now? Truly? You want to stay in here all night snarling at each other for no good reason?”

“No good reason? Alejandro demands, eyes flashing as he scrambles to his feet and stomps across the cramped confines of the room until he’s scant inches away from Faraday’s face. “Do you honestly think you trying to kill me and mine isn’t a good reason for me to be angry? Because from where I’m standing cabrón, it is a good enough reason and then some!”

“Fine,” Faraday shouts back. “Go ahead and hate me if you want! I sure as shit can’t stop you and I don’t much blame you either. I know I fucked up and I know I hurt you and I’m sorry, but having said all that, you and me standin’ here all night screamin’ at each other is goin’ to do us sweet fuck all in the line of anythin’ helpful. The way I see it, we’re far better off getting’ out of here first and _then_ screamin’ at each other to our heart’s content.”

Faraday pauses then, his chest heaving with exertion from the force of how worked up he’s gotten, but he meets Alejandro’s angry gaze head on, neither flinching nor looking away like he so very much wishes he could.

Alejandro’s quiet for several long seconds, and then he takes a step back, followed by another. “Fine,” he says once he’s put some distance back between the two of them. “How exactly do you suggest we do that? The door’s too strong for me to break down, so there’s no way you’ll be able to manage it, and there isn’t any other way out.”

Faraday breathes a sigh of relief now that things have settled down just a bit. An emotionally fraught screaming match with a betrayed werewolf isn’t something he’s equipped to handle, but something as simple as a locked door is much more in his wheelhouse. Almost against his will, he finds himself grinning. The few seconds he’d had to glance at the door were all he’d needed to know he could weasel his way out of here with little to no problem.

“Is that all you’re worried about?”

*****

It turns out Joshua can pick locks. In fact, it turns out that Joshua can pick locks very well. Vasquez supposes he shouldn’t be surprised considering the man’s line of work, yet he’s still amazed by how quickly Joshua has the door open once he starts concentrating on getting them both out of here.

“It’s a pretty basic set up,” he says as he works, though Vasquez has no idea if he’s talking to him or simply because he likes to hear himself talk. “Honestly, I could crack somethin’ like this in my sleep.”

“Just so long as you crack it before someone comes back,” Vasquez growls, pacing back and forth. The room is on the small side and the lack of any windows combined with Joshua’s mere presence is doing a number on his nerves. He can’t remember the last time he had such an urge to bite something.

“You alright?” Joshua asks from his position by the door.

“What makes you think I want you asking me that?” Vasquez snaps. “Hell, what makes you think I want you talking to me at all?”

Sighing, Joshua raises his hands briefly in surrender, and then returns to his task without another word. For his part, Vasquez goes back to pacing within the confines of the room until a small click sounds out and Joshua makes a triumphant noise.

“Got it,” he says, clearly pleased with himself. “I told you it wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“Everything about you is trouble,” Vasquez growls. He waits for Joshua to slowly push the door open, anticipation swirling low in his gut. There’s a solid chance there will be armed guards outside the door, and he belatedly realizes he should have gotten out of his borrowed clothes and shifted so he could at least have teeth and claws at his disposal.

Thankfully there’s no one waiting outside the room, and Vasquez doesn’t miss it when he and Joshua both let out identical sighs of relief.

“Come on,” Joshua says then. “There’s a custodian’s entrance not far from here. It shouldn’t be too heavily guarded, if it even is at all, and I figure we can get out that way.”

Vasquez wants to tell him he’s on his own now that the door is open, but even in his betrayed state he knows that’s not a good idea. Unlike Joshua, he has no idea where he is, and the closest thing he has to an ally is the man in front of him. “Fine,” he says, when it becomes obvious that Joshua’s not going to make a move without his input. “But I want you in front of me. I don’t like the idea of not being able to see what you’re up to.”

Joshua frowns at this, something that looks an awful lot like hurt flashing across his features, but his face smooths out after only a moment and he nods in agreement. “Works for me.”

He ducks out of the room, seemingly unconcerned by the idea of having Vasquez at his back and begins making his way along the corridor with every indication of a man who knows what he’s doing. For his part, Vasquez follows along much more cautiously. While his senses are sharper than that of a normal human no matter what shape he’s in, they’re far stronger as a wolf. He’s once again contemplating making the shift from this form to the other when he hears a noise that makes him wish he could start cursing.

“Faraday,” he hisses, voice pitched low in an effort to keep the sound from carrying.

Joshua turns at the sound of his name, his mouth half open on a question when Vasquez furiously shakes his head and presses a finger to his lips to signal him quiet. When Joshua nods at him in turn, he uses the same finger to point in the direction he’d heard the noise – or the footsteps rather – originate from.

“Company,” he mouths, hoping that lip reading might be another unexpected skill in Joshua’s possession.

It appears that it is because Joshua nods at him again and motions him backwards into the shadows. There’s nowhere for them to hide, not really, and crouched down low and back is the best they can manage.

Thankfully, it’s enough, and the lone guard doesn’t get a chance to say anything when he steps within reaching distance and comes face to face with Vasquez’s fist. A cracking sound rings out when the punch connects with the man’s jaw, louder than Vasquez is comfortable with, and the body slumps towards the ground almost too fast for Vasquez to catch it.

“Jesus,” Faraday breathes, sounding impressed. “You pack quite the wallop there, don’t you?”

“Not human, remember?” Vasquez grunts. He easily throws the unconscious guard over his shoulder and looks over at Joshua. “What do you suggest we do with him?”

“There’s a row of storage lockers near where we’re goin’,” Joshua replies, speaking in hushed tones. “Almost all of them are unlocked and we can probably fit him in one.”

That sounds far from ideal but beggars can’t be choosers, and Vasquez isn’t about to leave the guard lying around where he’s likely to be stumbled over before they have a chance to escape. He trails after Joshua, the guard not much of a weight on his back despite the man’s bulk, and only stops when they come upon the lockers he’d been told to look out for.

As Joshua hauls one of them open, Vasquez shifts the guard’s limp body around so that he can place him inside. The action causes the man’s gun belt to snag on the edge of the locker, and both Vasquez and Joshua frown down at it. Finally, Joshua sighs.

“Do you mind if I take his gun?”

“What?”

Joshua sighs again and runs a hand tiredly through his hair. “His gun. Do you mind if I take it? Bogue’s bastards managed to find all the weapons I had on me, and I wouldn’t mind a little somethin’ for protection with how this night has played out so far. I’ll leave it here if it makes you uncomfortable though.”

Vasquez frowns, startled by the notion that a hunter would be willing to remain unarmed at his request. Then again, who was to say it wasn’t a trick designed to lure him into a false sense of security? Chewing absently on his lip, he contemplates the idea for a few seconds, before deciding that they don’t have any more time to waste.

“Take it if you want,” he says. “But do me a favor and be careful how you use it.”

“I ain’t gonna shoot you,” Joshua snaps, seemingly having reached the end of his rope where Vasquez and his snide comments are concerned. “Jesus.”

“You tried to shoot me less than four hours ago, Faraday.” Vasquez points out. “Forgive me if I haven’t gotten over it yet.”

Breathing heavily through his nose, Joshua doesn’t reply. Instead he reaches over and unhooks the guard’s gun from his belt. Checking the clip to see if it’s to his satisfaction, he nods and squares his shoulders. “Alright,” he says, gun held at the ready. “Let’s just get out of here, shall we? Then we can have that big ol’ screamin’ fight you’re so obviously excited for.”

Vasquez wants to snarl back at him, but Joshua’s already turning away and marching back down the corridor before he has a chance. “It’s not far now,” he says over his shoulder. “Come on.”

Frowning, Vasquez does as he’s told.

They come up on a nondescript door that Vasquez isn’t sure he’d have noticed if not for Joshua pointing it out. “I always make a point of knowin’ every inch of the places I’m workin’,” Joshua says when Vasquez raises a surprised eyebrow at him. “You never know when a job might go south and you wind up having to get the hell out of dodge.”

“Indeed.” Vasquez says flatly. “I can only imagine what a job going south looks like for you.”

He can’t be sure, not with the poor lighting of the corridor, but he thinks Joshua’s face flushes. “Whatever,” he says tightly. “Let’s just get out of here.”

The door can’t be used often because it squeaks ominously when Joshua turns the handle. Joshua freezes at the sound and glances over at Vasquez, who shrugs. Frowning, Joshua shakes his head and puts his back into getting the door opened. It’s noisier than either of them is comfortable with, but once it’s open it’s open and that means they have a way out of here.

“Come on,” Joshua says as the cool night air wafts into the building. “I can’t see any reason in sticking around here any longer, can you?”

Vasquez shakes his head, and they both slip out the exit, carefully closing the door behind them.

“Keep movin’,” Joshua says once they’re outside. “There’re security cameras all over the place, and I don’t know if we’re goin’ to be lucky enough to dodge them all. The quicker we get out of here the better.”

That much Vasquez isn’t going to argue with him on. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen once they’re safe again, but for now it looks like their best chance is to stick together and see this part through.

“How did you get here anyway?” Joshua asks, making his way along the outskirts of the building.

“I was trying to get back to my pack,” Vasquez replies, wondering why he cares. “but I was paying more attention to trying to get away than to where I was actually going and I landed in a pit trap. They dragged me back here after they grabbed me.”

There’s a guilty silence from Joshua’s direction, and Vasquez comes to a sudden realization. “Let me guess,” he grits out. “That was one of your traps I landed in. I should have known. You probably have them all over this place. That’s what hunters do, after all.”

Joshua makes a frustrated noise but doesn’t push the matter. “I’m not doin’ this now. The reason I asked, though, was because I was hopin’ you’d have a set of wheels nearby. Now it looks like we’re goin’ to have to hope they haven’t moved mine yet.”

Vasquez frowns. “You want us to go together?”

“I want us to go period.” Joshua replies. “We can figure out the rest of it once we’ve put some distance between ourselves and this hellscape.”

Vasquez supposes he can’t fault him for that logic, and, trust issues aside, it does make sense for them to use a vehicle if there’s one available. At least that way they’ll be able to get out of here faster.

Joshua leads him down and around the main complex, always seeming to be on high alert as he goes. “Come on, come on,” he mutters as they move. “Please be where I left you. Yes!” He lets out a muted whoop and pumps his fist in the air when his car comes into view. “Score one for us for the first time tonight.”

“Do you even have the keys right now?” Vasquez asks. “Or did they take them off you?”

“Oh, they took every fuckin’ thing I had,” Joshua says, sounding remarkably unconcerned by this. “What, you don’t think I know how to hotwire a car?”

Vasquez almost, almost cracks a smile at this. Then he remembers what Joshua uses his varied range of skills for and the urge to do so disappears. “Just do it then.”

For once Joshua doesn’t reply, choosing instead to tuck his stolen weapon into the waistband of his jeans and set about getting the car moving. “Lucky I didn’t bother to lock it, huh?” He asks, motioning for Vasquez to climb in the passenger side door. “Get in and keep your head down. This shouldn’t take me too long.”

Vasquez doesn’t much care for the idea of being crammed into a car with Joshua right now, but he supposes it’s better than the alternative. Climbing inside the car as indicated, he settles into his seat and watches as Joshua fusses around with a bunch of wires. “How long is not long?” He asks.

“Not long is less long if you don’t distract me,” Joshua replies nonsensically, yelping when a spark comes off one of the wires and shocks him.

“Idiota,” Vasquez mutters.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s really fuckin’ nice of you, sweetheart. Goddamnit, come on,” he adds, continuing on in his argument with the car, apparently oblivious to what else he’s just said. “I recognize I haven’t done this in a while, but this is ridiculous. Aha!”

Joshua breaks off in his rant as the car rumbles to life, and he turns to flash Vasquez a triumphant grin. “What say we get the fuck out of here, hmm?”

Vasquez nods his head in agreement, and Joshua crows out a laugh as he twists the wheel of the car and they peel out of the parking lot. “You are insane, Faraday.” He mutters, unable to be as pleased by their freedom as Joshua is.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been called worse than that in my life, so I guess I’ll take it. Hey,” he adds, his voice taking on a more somber tone, “will your pack have noticed you’re missing by now?

“Si,” Vasquez says slowly, wondering what that has to do with anything. “Why do you ask?”

Shifting so he’s driving one-handed, Joshua reaches over with his right hand and pulls open the hatch of the glove compartment. He roots around in the mess of paper for a moment before coming out with a boxy cellphone pinched between thumb and forefinger. “Here. They took mine off me back at the base, and I imagine yours is long gone too. You can use this to let them know you’re alright.”

It’s a thoughtful gesture, one Vasquez isn’t certain he trusts any more than he had Joshua’s offer to keep himself unarmed, but Sam and the others were bound to be going out of their minds at the point. “Fine,” he grunts, taking the phone and flipping it open. It’s old and cheap, he can tell that much, probably a burner.

He thumbs in Sam’s number, hoping the older were will bother to pick up when he sees a call from someone he doesn’t know. Luckily, he does, the other line clicking open and a curt, “Who is this?” sounding out in Vasquez’s ear.

“It’s me,” he says, quickly before Sam can get too worked up. “I’m fine.”

“Oh you are, are you?” Sam barks. “Well I’d say that was good news, but I’m considerin’ kickin’ your damn ass myself after tonight, what with how badly you’ve managed to scare the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Vasquez bites out. “I ran into some unexpected trouble trying to get out of there. What about Jack? Is he alright?”

 Sam snorts. “For a given value of alright. He’s not going to have full use of that arm for a bit, but he’ll live. Where the hell are you?”

“I’ll explain later,” Vasquez tells him, unwilling to keep him on the phone for any longer than he has too. “Just get home if you’re not there already and keep everyone in the house until I tell you to. I’ll tell you everything then.”

“You’d better.” Sam says ominously.

Vasquez ends the call with the flick of one finger, and then holds the phone out in the palm of his hand, studying it carefully. He sees Joshua watching him out of the corner of his eye. “Are you particularly attached to this by any chance?”

“Uh, no. Why?”

Vasquez flashes him a whiplash quick grin and then closes his fist around the phone, crushing it with no real difficulty. “No reason.” He hits the switch for the window, and when it opens tosses the broken pieces out onto the road.

“Damn.” Joshua says mildly. “I always forget how strong you lot are until I see it in person. Was there a particular reason for that little stunt, or are you just tryin’ to make me nervous?”

“If it makes you nervous that’s fine, but I mainly don’t want you or anybody you work with getting their hands on anything that might lead you back to my family.” Vasquez gives him a tight smile. “You understand, I’m sure.”

“Ah.” Joshua says quietly as he stares morosely out into the night. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

*****

“We need to figure out where we’re goin’,” Joshua says. It’s the first sentence either of them has spoken in close to a half an hour, and Vasquez deeply wishes the other man had just continued keeping his mouth shut.

“We?” He repeats, scoffing. “ _We_ do not need to do anything, Faraday. Once we find a decent stopping point you and I are going to go our separate ways. I have to get back to my pack and figure out what we’re going to do now that _someone_ has brought the man who wants us all dead to our doorstep. You can do whatever the hell you please.”

Joshua’s fingers tighten noticeably on the steering wheel but then smooth out as if this had never happened. Then he says something shocking.

“I want to help.”

For the first time since he’d thrown the shattered remains of the cellphone out the window, Vasquez turns to look at him. “You want to help.” He repeats flatly, not needing inflection to get across how incredulous he finds this idea to be. “You, the  _hunter_ want to help. You kill my kind for a living, Faraday. Please forgive me if I find this concept to be highly suspicious.”

Joshua growls low under his breath. “I’m not that kind of hunter,” he says firmly.

Vasquez barks out a laugh at this, dark and ugly. “There is no other kind of hunter,” he shoots back. “Either you kill my people, or you don’t. There’s no in between. Anyone who says otherwise is lying to you.”

Joshua falls silent at this, and for one, brief moment Vasquez thinks he might stay that way. No such luck, however. “I still want to help.”

“So you keep saying,” Vasquez agrees. “I don’t believe you.”

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know,” Joshua says. “That don’t make it any less true. Hell, I was tryin’ to help before, when Bogue and his goons caught me the first time. What, you think I lied to you about that?”

“Why not?” Vasquez asks snidely. “You’ve lied about everything else. And you should turn here,” he adds, pointing towards an upcoming exit before Joshua can formulate another of his token protests. Vasquez doesn’t need to see him cry any crocodile tears after the night he’s had.

“What?” Joshua asks, thrown by the change in topic. Although, Vasquez notes, he does as instructed, flicking the turn signal on and sliding easily into the correct lane. “Why am I doin’ this then?”

“Because it’s the fastest way into the inner city,” Vasquez informs him. “I can get out there and disappear into the crowd until one of the others can come get me.”

Joshua lets out an irritated huff. “And how exactly will you arrange that? Or did you forget how you threw the only cellphone we had out the window of a speedin’ car?”

“Shockingly, no,” Vasquez says, his tone mocking. “Don’t worry, though, I’m sure I can figure something out. Maybe I’ll find some handsome young thing to flirt with and scam out of his phone. I’m very pretty, after all.”

“Jesus,” Joshua snaps.

“You were the one who said we should have a, how did you put it? A big ‘ol screamin’ fight?” He deliberately uses an affected version of Joshua’s drawl, and grins when it makes him snarl again. “Now’s as good a time as any, wouldn’t you say?”

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joshua swears, slamming his foot theatrically down on the break and sending the car skidding to a stop. “You really want to do this then? Fine. Get the fuck out of the car.”

Vasquez stares at him. “We’re in the middle of the highway.”

“I said get out of the fuckin’ car, Alejandro!” He unclasps his seatbelt and shoves his door open. “I need room to move if we’re goin’ to do this.” He adds as he climbs out of the car.

“It’s Vasquez,” he snaps. “I save that level of familiarity for people who haven’t _tried to kill me_.”

Joshua has the gall to throw up his hands in exasperation. “I didn’t try to kill you,” he shouts back, stomping a little ways down the side of the road so he’s not quite as obvious should anyone happen to come driving along here this late at night. “Not to put too fine a point on it, but if I had, you’d be fuckin’ _dead_.”

“Oh, so now you’re arrogant as well a flat out liar,” Vasquez snaps. He gestures wildly to better illustrate his point. “You had a gun trained on me less than however many hours ago.”

“No!” Joshua barks. “I had a gun trained on _werewolf_ who I’d been lead to believe was _killing innocent people_! There is a fucking _difference_!”

“Not from where I’m standing!” Vasquez roars back. “I’d still be just as dead if you’d shot me!”

Joshua reels back at that. Of the two of them, Vasquez is usually the much more relaxed, so there’s no way Joshua would ever have seen him be this emotional. On the other hand, what the hell does he expect? Unless he’s somehow labouring under the delusion that Vasquez doesn’t feel utterly betrayed by everything that’s happened over the past twenty four hours, getting yelled at should be the least of his worries.

Vasquez isn’t going to let that hold him back, however. He takes a few, measured steps towards Joshua, who doesn’t try and hold his ground and shifts back an equal distance. “Can you honestly say,” Vasquez starts, low and dangerous, “that you wouldn’t have put a bullet in my head if I hadn’t been fast enough to shift last night? I don’t think you can, but go ahead and try if you must.”

Joshua swallows once, twice, a third time, and then hangs his head, all of the figh going out of him. “No,” he says finally, his voice more subdued than Vasquez has ever heard it. “I can’t say that.”

“I didn’t think so,” Vasquez agrees. He looks away from Joshua’s slumped shoulders, focusing his gaze instead on the stretch of road before them. They’re not that far away from the city and if he uses the cover of the wooded area he can move faster than a human and get there relatively quickly.

“Where the hell are you goin’?” Joshua demands, perking up slightly when Vasquez makes to step off the shoulder of the road and down the embankment that will take him to the woods and the cover he needs.

“I’d have thought that was obvious. I’m going away from here.” Away from you, he doesn’t add, but then again, it’s not like he needs to, is it?

Joshua makes an aggravated noise in the back of his throat, frustration apparently trumping his supposed feelings of remorse for the time being. “You can’t just go wanderin’ around the woods in the middle of the night, you idiot.”

Vasquez isn’t even going to dignify that one with a response. If Joshua honestly believes there’s anything more dangerous among the trees than him, he is sadly mistaken.

“Argh.” There’s a skidding sound as Joshua kicks up a bunch of gravel. “For fuck’s sake, you asshole. Get back here!”

“You didn’t have the right to tell me what to do before, Faraday.” Vasquez points out as he reaches the edge of the road shoulder and surveys it to see if he can determine the best way down. He’s got no desire to add a twisted ankle or a broken neck to the fun tonight’s already thrown his way. “What makes you think you have it now?”

“So, what?” Joshua demands. Vasquez can tell he hasn’t made any move to come closer, but he’s not sure how long that will last. “You’re just going to take off, go back to your family and do what, exactly?”

“I don’t know, Faraday.” Vasquez informs him, still not looking at him. “But I can tell you this much, whatever we decide to do, we’ll figure it out without _you_.”

“Because you’ve been doing so well on your own,” Joshua scoffs, and now Vasquez does turn back around to look at him. He crosses his arms over his chest, shaking his head like he can’t believe how stupid everything is.

“I know the story, remember?” Joshua says. “You tried to fight him alone and you lost. You tried to run from him and he found you. Don’t you think it’s time you try and toss a wrench in the works? Try and throw him off his game?”

“Are you serious?” Vasquez asks, incredulous. “You’re honestly trying to convince me that adding you to the mix will be enough to stop Bogue?” He scoffs. “I knew you were cocky, Faraday, but that’s ridiculous even for you.”

“And why not?” Joshua demands. “I’m the one who knows his place inside and out.”

“So?”

“So that makes me the most dangerous enemy he has right now.” Joshua shakes his head and spreads his arms out wide, as if he thinks that might somehow make him more endearing. “You can’t keep runnin’ from him, not anymore. You _have_ to beat him, and what I know could very well help you do that.”

Vasquez pauses then. As much as he hates to admit it, Joshua has a point. Oh, Vasquez doesn’t trust him, he can’t, there’s no way he can, but the man may very well have inside information that can help them take down Bogue. Plus, Joshua isn’t wrong when he says Bogue had beaten them before. Sure, it had been a close fight, but it had still ended with Matthew dead and the rest of them hidden away halfway across the country.

He looks at where Joshua is still watching him, waiting for a reply. “I do not trust you,” he says firmly.

“What? You think I’m surprised to hear that?” Joshua shrugs, and there’s a defeated slump to his shoulders that Vasquez wishes he could believe. “I get it, I do. I wouldn’t trust me either. That’s fine, but I mean it when I say I want to help if you’ll let me. Do whatever you have to to be comfortable with me stickin’ around, but please just let me help.”

He sounds sincere, but then he usually does. Vasquez eyes him for several long moments, chewing his bottom lip as he considers his options.

“I can’t promise anything,” he says finally, not missing the relieved breath Joshua lets out at his words. “And by can’t promise anything, I mean I can’t promise my pack won’t kill you on sight for working with Bogue.”

If he’d expected Joshua to back down at this, he turns out to have another thing coming. The man merely shrugs. “That’s fine,” he says. “I get that.”

Vasquez eyes him warily for a few seconds longer, but Joshua just meets his gaze levelly.

“Fine,” he says, once he’s determined their little staring contest has gone on for long enough. “Get in the car and I’ll tell you where to go.”

*****

Alejandro takes him to a ramshackle farmhouse on the outskirts of town. From the outside the building looks old but well cared for, big enough to hold a large family – or in this case pack – with little trouble. There’s an older man reclined on a porch swing when they arrive, sound asleep and with a pair of wolves – one black and one a sandy brown – tussling at his feet.

The man doesn’t wake up at their approach, but the two wolves freeze. The sandy one, which is smaller than its companion by a considerable margin, cocks its head to the side and looks curious, while the black one’s posture is less friendly. Faraday’s pretty sure the hint of teeth he can see isn’t an accident.

“This is Jack,” Alejandro says, jerking Faraday out of his reverie by gesturing at the man on the swing. “You shot him,” he adds flatly.

Faraday’s gut twists painfully, and he doesn’t know what bothers him more – the way the black wolf’s ears go flat against his head as he growls, or the way the small one shudders and tries to back away.

Alejandro follows his gaze. “These are Red and Teddy, our two youngest. Maybe try not to shoot them, yes?”

“I – yeah, of course,” Faraday says, shamefaced.

Alejandro makes an unimpressed sound and points at an empty rocking chair that looks like it’s seen better days on the other side of the porch. “Wait here. I have to go try and explain to Sam and Emma why I brought you here, and it’ll be safer if you’re not in the room when I do that.”

“Uh, sure.” Faraday says, dropping down into the seat as indicated. “Should I be concerned?”

“Yes,” Alejandro says, still in that same clipped register he’s been using on Faraday all night. “I told you I couldn’t promise they wouldn’t kill you. Everyone in this house has a reason to hate or fear Bogue and anyone who works for him.”

The sandy colored wolf bumps Alejandro in the knee with his nose, and Alejandro in turn bends down to scratch at its thick ruff. Now that he’s had a good look at him, Faraday’s pretty sure this one isn’t yet full grown, what with the way it seems to be all gangly limbs and paws too big for its body.

Alejandro continues to scratch at the pup’s ears, the motion obviously meant to be comforting. “Bogue himself shot Emma’s husband through the heart. He'd already won by that point. We'd decided to leave, we were running, but that wasn't enough for him. Not even then. Matthew tried to stand up to him while most of us got away, but it wasn't fucking enough for him. I could go on. Would you like me to?”

“No,” Faraday says hoarsely. He feels like Alejandro’s dug a knife between his ribs and is gleefully twisting it with each new part of the story recounted. “You’ve made your point.”

Alejandro snorts at this. “Not hardly,” he says. He gives the pup one last vigorous scratch and then straightens up. “Wait here,” he says again. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t anybody bite him while I’m gone,” he adds, apparently to the wolves who’ll be staying outside. Faraday thinks the black one, Red, huffs out an annoyed noise, but he might be reading too much into things.

As Alejandro disappears inside the house, the heavy screen door swinging closed behind him, Faraday finds himself alone with a trio of werewolves who he doesn’t know and who have no reason to trust him. To say this is a little disconcerting is something of an understatement.

“You shouldn’t read too much into what Vasquez says to you.”

Startled, Faraday, who up until this point had been keeping his attention on Red and Teddy, all three of them eyeing each other warily, looks over in Jack’s direction and is surprised to see the man staring back at him. As Faraday watches, he shifts slowly, and no doubt painfully, into a sitting position, the bandages around his right shoulder becoming visible as the blanket he’s been under moves as well.

“Jack Horne,” he says, once he’s gotten himself properly situated. “Did I hear Vasquez say you’re the one who shot me?”

Faraday winces, something he thinks he’s been doing a lot of tonight. “Joshua Faraday, and, uh, yeah. Sorry about that?”

Jack watches him thoughtfully for a few, long seconds, before shrugging his uninjured shoulder. “Vasquez wouldn’t have brought you here if he truly thought you were a threat to us,” he says, as if that’s the end of it. And maybe it is, at least as far as he’s concerned. Faraday’s getting the sense that not much rattles Jack Horne.

“You’re the one he’s been messing around with, aren’t you?” Jack asks, and Faraday blanches. Apparently not much was considered off limits by Jack Horne either. “I recognize your scent – caught it off him a few times.”

“Um,” says Faraday. He can’t be certain, but he’s pretty sure at least Red is laughing at him from his place near the porch steps.

“Bet that was something of a nasty shock for the both of you,” Jack continues on, seemingly oblivious to Faraday’s discomfort.

“You have no idea,” Faraday says with feeling and then immediately winces, again, over how that sounds. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to come out so … so …” He trails off pathetically as words continue to fail him. The events of the past few nights had been a surprise to say the least.

Faraday’s still trying to think of something to say to the old were when he’s saved – for a given vale of saved that is – by the sudden sound of shouting coming from inside the house. Jack lets out a tired sigh as a muffled voice, obviously angry, continues to ring out. “Looks like Ms. Emma just found out we’ve got a hunter in our midst.”

By his feet, Teddy yips, causing Jack to laugh and shift to ruffle the pup’s ears. “Don’t you worry, runt. I’m sure she’ll handle everything with all the grace and dignity in her possession.”

Across the porch, Red snorts, the sound remarkably human for all that it’s come from a 200lb wolf.

Faraday’s about to open his mouth, although to say what he’s still not quite sure, when the screen door is unceremoniously shoved back and Alejandro is standing there, a dark silhouette in the patch of light now streaming out into the night from inside the house. He looks at Faraday and jerks his head towards the interior of them home in an obvious indication to follow him. “Sam and Emma want to talk to you, and you should go back to sleep,” he adds, nodding at Jack.

For his part, Jack makes a scoffing sound. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead, you underaged brat.”

“You almost were dead,” Alejandro snaps, “and I’m thirty three, old man. Hardly a pup like these two.”

Red makes an affronted noise at this, and the last thing Faraday sees as he gets up to follow Alejandro is him moving for the door, only to have it snap shut in his face. His annoyed growl, however, comes through loud and clear.

“How old is he?” Faraday asks curiously. Red’s got a bit of the same paws-still-too-big-for-his-body look that Teddy has going on, only to a lesser degree.

“Seventeen,” Alejandro snaps, and then scowls like he hadn’t meant to say anything. “He’s a child,” he adds darkly. Faraday raises his arms in surrender and pointedly doesn’t say how he suspects Red would hotly contest that claim.

They fall into silence as Faraday lets Alejandro lead him deeper into the farmhouse. It’s about what he expected based on what he’d already seen from the outside. The place is old, but obviously well cared for, with the kind of cozy, lived in look that Faraday’s never stayed long enough in one spot to be able to relate to. If most of the wooden furniture shows signs of having been chewed on and the wood flooring has been scoured by the tread of heavily clawed paws, well, he supposes that’s only to be expected.

Alejandro brings him into a living room crowed with furniture and all manner of cushions that look designed to hold large, furry bodies. Standing in the middle of the room are a large black man and a much smaller red headed woman. The man at least looks intrigued, while the woman mainly looks ready to bite.

Slowing to a halt, Alejandro nods at each of the new parties in turn and then says, “Joshua Faraday, meet Sam Chisolm and Emma Cullen. They’re going to decide what to do with you.”

A low, menacing growl sounds out from behind him, and, startled, Faraday twists awkwardly as he tries to see who’s making the noise while simultaneously keeping Chisolm and Cullen in his sights. His eyes land on a pair of wolves he’d somehow missed upon entering the room, not a very bright move for a supposedly talented hunter.

One of the wolves is brown and somewhat on the scraggly side with patches of grey dotted throughout its coat. The other one, the one the growl is emanating from, is smaller, with beautiful, sleek black fur that Faraday suspects would feel like silk if he dared run his fingers through it. Despite being nowhere near the size of its companion, Faraday gets the feeling it’s by far the more dangerous of the two.

“That’s Goodnight and Billy,” Alejandro says, having seen where Faraday’s attention had refocused. “Billy’s already suggested we eat you.”

At this, Chisolm sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “No one is eating anyone,” he says with the tired air of a man who can’t believe he’s having this discussion. “We’ve never eaten anyone before and we’re not starting now.”

“It’d be a decent way to hide any evidence,” Cullen points out, helpfully narrowing down Faraday’s list of potential allies in the room.

He glances over at Alejandro to see if he can read anything off him, but he’s met with the same impassive stare he’s been receiving for most of the night. It hurts, even though it’s likely only fair. On a scale of 1-10, finding out that the guy you’ve been less and less casually seeing hunts your kind for a living has to be a solid 14 when it comes to things that’ll put a damper on a relationship.

“Alright, enough.” Chisolm says, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. He turns to Faraday. “Vasquez says he thinks you can help us.”

“That is _not_ what I said, Sam,” Alejandro snaps, sounding more offended than Faraday thinks he’s ever heard him.

Chisolm rolls his eyes. “Forgive me. Vasquez says _you_ think you can help us. He’s just in too much of a snit right now to admit he agrees with you.”

Alejandro makes an aborted choking noise that causes Chisolm to roll his eyes again. “You wouldn’t have risked bringing him here if you felt otherwise, so cut that shit out. We have bigger things to worry about now than your pride. That goes for you too, Billy,” he adds, and the black wolf’s growling abruptly ceases.

Chisolm turns his gaze back on Faraday, who flinches at the fire sitting barely banked in his eyes. “I don’t know you, Mr. Faraday, and I sure as hell don’t trust you, but my family is in danger and we could use your help. We’ve already lost one pack member to this fight. I don’t intend to lose any more.”

Faraday swallows. Hoping they can tell he means it, he says, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Judging by Alejandro’s pointed eye roll, he doesn’t succeed.

Sighing, Faraday runs a hand up through his hair and makes a concerted effort to stop looking at Alejandro. “Look,” he says tiredly, “I’m not here to promise you anything. I was dumb enough to let Bogue pull the wool over my eyes for months where you lot are concerned, and I can’t guarantee that what I know will help you in the long run. What I _can_ guarantee you is that I want to try.”

He holds Chisolm’s gaze as well as he’s able. “I can’t do that if you won’t let me though.”

Chisolm matches him stare for stare, and the room goes thick with tension until the older man finally nods. “Alright, Faraday, let’s see what you’ve got for us.”

*****

What Joshua has for them is the entire layout of Bogue’s security system tucked up inside his own head. Everyone in the room stares at him as he uses a handful of printer paper Emma had brought him to sketch out a rough outline Bogue’s territory.

“Alright,” he says, straightening up after the better of a half an hour has gone past. “These here are the spots that look like they have security cameras but don’t, and these,” he gestures at a bunch of spots he’s marked in red, “are the ones that have real ones. I like to use decoys to throw folks off their game because when they think they know where the things are, they tend to miss the real ones.”

“Smart.” Billy says grudgingly. Goodnight had point blank refused to change back to human as long as Joshua was in the room, but Billy had shifted easily enough when he’d determined he might want to be able to verbally contribute.

“Thanks,” Joshua says either ignoring Billy’s tone or not caring about it. He gestures back at his impromptu map, indicating a number of places with green lines coninciding with spots where there are doorways. “Most of the stuff I set up is designed to work as a warning system, so along with the cameras there’s motion sensors on or near most of the doors.”

“That doesn’t sound as bad as I was expecting,” Emma says slowly, and Joshua makes a guilty face.

“Uh, unfortunately, that’s not quite the extent of it. See, anyone who’s supposed to be in the building has a key card to get themselves in there. If you use the key card to open the door, nothing happens, but if a motion sensor gets triggered without the correspondin’ card, well …” he trails off awkwardly.

“Well?” Sam presses.

Joshua makes a face. “Let’s just say because I set this up with werewolves in mind there’s something of a two pronged attack involing wolfsbane gas and alarms set at a frequency designed to incapacitate.” He gives Vasquez a rueful look. “Let’s just say the trouble you had in that theatre will have nothin’ on these things.”

Vasquez glares at him, but doesn’t say anything.

Emma coughs, dragging the attention of everyone in the room back to the matter at home. “Thanks to Faraday we have a better idea of the layout of the development, and we know what traps there are and how to avoid them. As far as I’m concerned, the only thing left to do is decide when to strike.”

“Tomrrow,” Sam says, and there’s no room for argument in his voice. “The longer we delay, the longer we’ll be giving Bogue to prepare and come up with new surprises for us.”

Heads nod around the room, even Goodnight’s regardless of what shape he’s in.

“You still need a strategy.” Joshua says. He raises his hands defensively when half the people in the room turn to glare at him. “Look, sorry, but you do. Runnin’ in there and tearin’ people to shreds left, right, and centre might make you all feel good about yourselves, but it’s not goin’ to be a permanent solution to your problem. You need to take Bogue out for good, and you’re never goin’ to be able to reach him if you don’t have a plan.”

Jack shifts in his seat, a look of pain momentarily gracing his features as he resettles his injured arm. “From this should we assume that you have an idea?”

Joshua nods. “As a matter of fact, I do.” He slides one of his maps forward, and jabs a finger at a section that’s been heavily outlined in ink. “This is the main operations building. There’s a room in there that acts as a central hub. It’s where things like the security feeds and whatnot come to.”

“And this is relevant, why?” Billy asks.

“Because it’s also the main control room. Not only can you shut off all of the security features from inside it, you can cut the power to almost all of the development as well. With one, notable exception.” Joshua flashes a grin with nothing pleasant in it, and moves the same finger that had pointed out the operations room to a new section of the map.

“That’s where Bogue has his personal office. It’s on a separate grid from the rest of this mess. I guarantee you, if we cut the power to everywhere else, Bogue will go to the only place that'll be left.”

Sam gives him a long look. “So, what you’re saying is, someone has to get inside that room and cut the power to the complex. The reason being, doing so will kill two birds with one stone because it’ll render most of the security measures useless, aside from the guards that is, and it’ll cause Bogue to run to ground.”

“That’s about the gist of it,” Joshua agrees. “With one exception. I’m not sayin’ someone has to get in there, I’m sayin’ I have to.”

He holds up a hand before anyone can offer up a protest. “I’m serious, and I’ve got plenty of reasons for it. I know the layout of the place, unlike any of you. I’ve got a security pass to get past the sensors, none of you do. And, on top of all that, it’ll leave you lot free to deal with the bulk of the guards. There’s goin’ to be enough questions asked by people in positions of authority once the smoke clears, but at least some of that can be done away with if most of those who get hurt look like they were mauled by wild animals.”

Something unpleasant clenches in Vasquez’s stomach at the notion of Joshua taking that kind of risk. It doesn’t quite burn away all of the anger or the hurt he’s feeling right now, but it nudges it aside enough for him to say, “You do not have a pass to get in the building. You told me Bogue’s men took everything you had when they locked you away.”

“They took everythin’ I had on me,” Joshua clarifies. Then he flashes a grin that’s damn near wolfish. “The bastards cost me some of my favorite guns, but I’ve got a bunch of toys they don’t know about squirreled away where Bogue doesn’t know to look, including duplicates of what I’ll need to get past those doors. I can get inside, don’t you worry about that.”

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Sam asks skeptically. His brow furrows as he frowns in Joshua’s direction. “You’re more vulnerable than we are, and you’ll be taking an awful big risk.”

Joshua’s grin fades, replaced by an expression that’s more resigned than anything else. Even worse, he answers Sam’s question, but looks at Vasquez as he does so. “I figure I owe you that much. You almost died because of me, the least I can do is return the favour.”

Vasquez almost responds to this. Almost. Then he thinks about everything that’s happened in the past twenty four hours and keeps his mouth determinedly shut.

*****

Having been told in no uncertain terms that he was expected to spend the night somewhere the pack could keep an eye on him, Faraday wakes up with a crick in his neck and the pack’s two youngest members staring down at him like they think he might do something interesting. Flailing a little, he struggles free of the crocheted blanket he’d been sleeping under and very nearly pitches off the couch and onto the floor. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes, “can I help you two?”

The younger one – Teddy if Faraday’s remembering correctly – gives the older one a skeptical look. “I thought hunters were supposed to be scary.”

His companion – Red – shrugs. “Guess nobody told him.”

Flopping back against the couch cushions, Faraday lets out a sigh. “Nobody who’s had as little sleep as I have is scary. What time is it?”

Red shrugs again. “Not quite eleven.”

That meant Faraday had gotten more sleep than he’d been expecting, but since it had been verging on five in the morning before they’d called it a night it was hardly enough. Although, it appeared to be all he was getting. “Did you two need something then?”

“Nah,” Teddy dismisses. “We just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”

“He means with you,” Red clarifies before Faraday can ask. “You’ve got Vasquez wound up enough he’s ready to bite, and he’s usually more easygoing than that.”

“Maybe for you.” Teddy grumbles.

Red snorts. “He’s very annoying,” he says, jerking his head in Teddy’s direction to better illustrate who ‘he’ is.

“Right,” Faraday says as Teddy sqwuaks in protest. “Is anybody else up?”

“Pretty much everybody but Jack and Goodnight,” Teddy says. He wrinkles his nose. “Though Goodnight might be awake.”

Faraday considers asking what he means by that, but the glare Red shoots the younger were stops him in his tracks. However, it now occurs to him that he might be able to get some information on the pack. “Is there anybody else I haven’t met yet? You’re not going to drop any more surprises on me, huh?”

Both weres shake their heads. “This is all of us that are left,” Teddy says, some of the highs going out of his voice. “We lost Matthew back in Rose Creek.”

“I heard. I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Red asks. “You didn’t kill him. Bogue did.”

“I – jesus. I don’t know, kid. I guess it’s just the kind of thing you say.” Faraday fumbles with a response. He’s never been good when things start getting emotional, and right now things are about as emotionally fraught as they can possibly get.

Teddy snickers. “You’re not very good at knowing the right thing to say, are you?”

Faraday feels his face heat. It seems that on top of everything else that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours he’s now being judged by a preteen. On the other hand, it’s not like Teddy doesn’t have a point. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know. Actually,” he pauses, “tell me how long you lot have been here. I’ve been lookin’ for you for ages without any luck.”

“Months,” Red says, and next to him Teddy nods.

“It took forever to find some place everyone could agree on,” he says. “Like, we went up to Minnesota first, but Vasquez threatened to leave if we didn’t go somewhere he didn’t have to wear four coats to go outside.”

“He’s a baby about the cold,” Red supplies, and Faraday doesn’t mention how he already knows that.

“Right,” Teddy agrees. “And Billy hated Texas, Sam didn’t want to go back to Kansas. I could go on. Basically this place was the best compromise, and, really, it’s not so bad. We have enough space and until last night nobody was bothering us.”

Faraday winces. He doesn’t know for certain if that was a subtle dig at him, but it felt like one sure enough.

He’s trying to think of something else to say when a growl rings throughout the room. Fighting free of the blanket he’d never quite managed to ditch, Faraday gets into a sitting position and looks over the arm of the couch at where Alejandro is standing framed in the living room doorway with a scowl on his face.

“You two. _Out_.” He snaps, and Red and Teddy share a surprised look before getting up and moving out of the room without another word.

Faraday frowns. “You didn’t have to bark at them. They weren’t botherin’ me.”

“If you think that is why I wanted them out of here, you’re an idiot,” Alejandro says, and Faraday can’t quite hold back a flinch at his words.

“What did you want then?” He asks in a poor attempt to cover up the hurt.

“We’re eating soon. Unless you want to go hungry, you may as well come.” He pauses. “After that Sam wants to go over the plan some more, and then you and I will go get the rest of your gear.”

Faraday blinks. “Me and you? Who the hell thought that was a good idea?” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, but instead of getting mad, Alejandro makes a sound of agreement.

“I asked the same thing. Apparently it was Emma’s idea. She seems to think I’m the best person to deal with you.”

Which just went to show how otherwise intelligent people could have major blindspots as far as Faraday’s concerned. He considers saying as much, but thinks better of it. Instead, he picks the blanket up from the floor where it had fallen and distracts himself with draping it over the back of the couch. “I guess you should lead the way,” he says when that’s done with.

Alejandro makes a face, but doesn’t say anything as he ducks back into the hallway.

*****

Between everything that’s going on at the farmhouse, it’s early evening before they make it out to the storage locker that Faraday’s been renting the whole time he’s worked with Bogue. Neither of them says anything as they make their way through the dimly lit corridor towards the locker Faraday has a key to, and Alejandro doesn’t even bother stepping inside once Faraday hauls the heavy door up on its treads.

Faraday wishes he could say something to cut through the awkward silence, but Alejandro has made it clear he’s not in the mood to hear anything he has to say. As such, he keeps his mouth shut and sets about digging through the crates he has lined up against the back wall of the locker, intent on getting in and out as quickly as possible.

“Was your mother a hunter?”

The question comes out of nowhere while Faraday’s crouched down and organizing the gear he plans to take with him. Startled, he fumbles with the clip he’s currently holding and looks over at where Alejandro’s leaning against the entrance to the storage locker. “What?”

“Your mother,” Alejandro repeats. “Jack had heard of another hunter with the name Faraday before, only it was a woman. Was it her?”

Faraday pauses, unsure of how best to answer. Finally, he shrugs. “She was, yeah. I learned from her.”

Alejandro makes a thoughtful noise, like Faraday’s confirmed a suspicion he’s only just realized he’d had. “And how did she die?”

“How did she -?” Faraday frowns and wonders what in the hell that has to do with anything. “I told you how she died, she got sick. If you want me to be more specific it was cancer. Pancreatic.”

“I don’t care what it was,” Alejandro says in a voice so cool it stings. “I’m just trying to figure out what else you lied about.”

Faraday stands then, his guns forgotten in the face of a sudden need to set the record straight. “I didn’t lie about anything,” he insists, doing his best to stand firm in the face of Alejandro’s incredulous stare. “I will freely admit that I wasn’t open about a lot of things, and I glanced over plenty of others, but I never _lied_.”

Alejandro laughs at him, and it’s hands down one of the most unpleasant sounds Faraday has ever heard. “Do you even hear yourself?” He demands. “Oh, idiota, you really do live in a dream world, don’t you? This? This thing between us? Every last bit of it was built on a lie. There was never anything there.”

Having said his piece, he pushes himself away from the wall and moves to head out of the locker. Not willing to just let that last declaration stand, Faraday moves after him.

“No, you know what? Fuck you!” Knowing full well he’s risking having his arm ripped off and not caring, Faraday grabs Alejandro by the shoulder and forces the other man to turn around and face him. “You don’t get to just walk away after sayin’ somethin’ like that, you bastard! Do you hear me? You don’t!”

Maybe it’s because he has the element of surprise on his side, or maybe it’s because of the barely banked rage in his voice, but he’s able to get Alejandro to turn and look at him using his grip alone. The other man’s eyes are blazing, and he has a look on him like he’s going to tear something or someone apart with his bare hands, but turn around he does.

“Let go. Of. Me.” He hisses, pulling his lips back to reveal canines that are lengthening noticeably. Faraday’s never heard of a were being able to shift only parts of themselves before, but he figures if anyone could manage it it’d be Alejandro. The man was always full of surprises, after all.

He brushes that thought away, and rather than release his grip, shakes Alejandro instead. “I won’t,” he says, even though he knows he has no right to do so, “not until you listen to me.”

“You have nothing to say that I want to hear, Faraday. Nada!” Alejandro growls, and Faraday has to fight back against a sudden lump in his throat. He’s never hated the sound of his own last name before, but he’d give just about anything to have Alejandro call him Joshua again.

Unwilling to let Alejandro go until he’s made his point, Faraday twists his fingers in the fabric of the man’s sleeve as he takes a few steadying breaths to try and calm himself. “You don’t have to want to hear it,” he says finally. “But I still need you to listen.”

“I don’t want -!” Alejandro starts, and Faraday cuts him off because he can’t take it anymore, can’t take the anger or the hurt or the betrayal.

“It was real!” He roars, managing to stop Alejandro’s flustered protests for the first and only time since he’d ruined things between them so spectacularly. “It was real,” he insists again, albeit not as loudly since Alejandro has fallen silent and is now just staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

Faraday takes in that expression and for some reason it’s this that makes him pry his fingers free from Alejandro’s shirt and move back a step or two. He crosses his arms over his chest for lack of anything better to do with them. “I … fuck,” he says tiredly. “Hate me if you want, I deserve that much, but at least give me the benefit of the doubt where this is concerned.”

He raises his eyes to meet Alejandro’s gaze, knowing full well he’s not above getting down on his knees and begging for this. “I had no idea what you were when I met you in that bar. You hear me? I didn’t have a fuckin’ clue. And even if I _had_ , I never would have done somethin’ like this, not to you, not to _anyone_. I’m a lot of things, okay? Some of them I’m proud of, and, yeah, plenty of them I’m not, but this isn’t somethin’ I have in me.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?” Alejandro asks. There’s no mistaking the hurt in his voice, and it’s that more than anything that Faraday regrets about this whole mess.

“Fuck,” he says again, “I don’t know.” He uncrosses his arms and brings his hands up to rub at his temples, feeling like he’s on the verge of developing a headache. “All I can do,” he says slowly, “is keep repeatin’ what I’ve already said. It was real. All of it, every last bit of it was real. At least for me.”

Alejandro watches him for a few seconds, then he huffs out a sigh. “Was there anything else you wanted to say?”

Faraday closes his eyes as he runs that question over and over in his head. There is so much more he’d like to say, but Alejandro isn’t likely to believe any of it and most of it Faraday has lost the right to bring up.

He licks his lips and decides there’s at least one thing he needs to make known, especially since he’s likely going to be dead in a matter of hours. “Just that I wouldn’t have missed it for anythin’,” he says. Alejandro’s eyes widen, but Faraday just squares his shoulders and keeps going. “I know you’d probably give anythin’ to never have met me, but I’m the exact opposite. Whatever else happens tonight, I stand by that. No matter how this ends, no matter how _we_ end, I don’t regret that we had somethin’.”

Alejandro stares at him for longer than he’s comfortable with, and Faraday stays silent, hoping he’ll at least get something in response. He’s hoping in vain, however, because in the end all Alejandro does is shake his head, turn around, and stalk out of the room without another word.

Faraday watches him go with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. “Well,” he tells the empty room when he can find his voice again. “I guess I should have expected that.”

*****

The drive to Chisolm’s suggested meeting place is tense, silent and altogether unpleasant. Faraday spends part of it fiddling with his gear, adjusting and readjusting his holster straps in a completely unnecessary pattern, and only stops when Alejandro starts growling low under his breath. After that he sits back in his seat and stares straight ahead, watching as the scenery whizzes by and counting down the seconds until this will be over.

Faraday practically throws himself from the car when it comes to a stop. He’s been in some uncomfortable situations in his lifetime, but trapped in a four door sedan with a werewolf who’d just as soon as eat him as look at him definitely takes the cake. Sighing, he takes a deep breath of the fresh night air and looks around. “Funny, I figured the others would beat us here.”

“They did,” Alejandro replies. His eyes are fixed on a point some ten or fifteen feet away, and as Faraday follows his gaze, he sees three shadows detatch themselves from the gloom and start heading towards them.

“Ah.” Faraday says, trying not to let his sudden onset of nerves show. He squares his shoulders and watches as the three wolves come closer. “Probably should’ve seen this coming.”

“Yes,” Alejandro says simply. “You should have.”

The three wolves stop moving once they’re near enough, and Faraday eyes them warily. He recognizes Billy first, having already seen the man in wolf form back at the house. Chisolm and Emma then are easy enough to tell apart – what with the stark differences in size and coloring. The rest of the pack would remain at the house during this little shindig. “Glad to see we’ve all made it. Anyone have anything they'd like to add before we get the ball rollin'?”

 Sam, Emma and Billy aren't in the right shape to say anything, and Alejandro, who's already got his shirt up over his ears as he gets ready to shift, lets out a snort. "I guess just try not to get shot."

Faraday winces and hopes that doesn't wind up being some kind of foreshadowing.

*****

Fuck foreshadowing.

For reasons he’ll never quite be able to articulate, Faraday isn’t surprised when the bullet comes out of nowhere and slams into his gut, only resigned. One hand clutching the freely bleeding wound in his side, he sinks to his knees when they give out and looks around for the shooter. He finds it when McCann – the never to be sufficiently damned bastard that he is – comes slinking out of the shadows with his gun held aloft and poised to take another shot.

Unable to stop himself, Faraday laughs, not because there’s anything funny about the situation, but because if he has to die, at least he can die having proven himself right about one thing. “I always knew you were a damned coward, McCann. Of course you’d only come out once you figured I wasn’t a threat anymore.”

“There’s a difference between cowardice and caution, Faraday. It ain’t my fault you’re too fucking stupid to see that. You never should have come back here.” McCann cocks his gun, an unpleasant smile stretching across his features, and Faraday feels a spike of regret flow through him.

He’s not bothered by the idea of dying, he’d come here knowing full well that was likely to happen, but he hasn’t managed to do his part of the plan yet, and that’s going to make things considerably more dicey for the pack. The thought of them not making it through this – any of them, to say nothing of Alejandro, is deeply troubling.

Not caring that it’s probably futile, he struggles to get his own gun up, figuring that maybe he can at least take McCann with him when he goes, and freezes when an enraged howl echoes throughout the night. He has only a moment to realize that the source is far closer than he's expecting it to be, when a massive shape comes hurtling out of the night, fangs gleaming as it gets McCann by the throat and takes him to the ground.

McCann’s finger pulls back on the trigger as he falls, but there’s no aim or coordination as he tumbles down. As Faraday watches, the man goes limp, gun falling from his hand, and the wolf raises its head. Blood drips from its muzzle as it stares over at him as if to say, “your move”.

And it is his move, that’s for sure. Nodding gratefully at the were – he’s a bit too muzzy to tell who it is between the poor lighting and the pain radiating out from his side – he forces himself back onto his feet, taking only a moment to get his bearings before he sets off again on his previous course. The wolf doesn’t come with him, but that’s fine, he’s supposed to do this part alone anyway.

They'd made it through the bulk of the development with relative ease, but whatever fluke had seen McCann materialize out of the darkness at the wrong time had done away with that. Faraday's not sure if McCann had tripped the alarm before his untimely demise or if someone else had done so upon hearing the gunshotss, but Bogue's security personal are out and moving towards them.

Faraday hears someone let out a howl behind him, and it's echoed by the remaining three. Then the weres are swarming past him and taking off with their own plans in mind. Breathing shallowly through his teeth as he tries to ignore the pain in his side, Faraday keeps moving towards his intended destination. 

The doors of the main complex have slammed shut behind the the last of the guards to exit, locking automatically now that the security systems have all been armed. However, that's no problem since Faraday has managed to keep a hold of his spare key card. In fact, there's something of a silver lining to it all as it means the bulk of the Bogue's men are out of the main building and not something he's going to have to deal with.

Faraday unlocks the main doors and hustles inside the building. Once the heavy metal doors are closed behind him, the only noise is the sound of his own labored breathing, and he moves as quickly as he can towards the operations room, stopping just outside it in order to better assess what he's up against.

He's not at a great angle, but what he can see doesn't make him happy. There are still three armed guards in the room, which didn't exactly make for the world's greatest odds. Pulling his head back, he takes a couple moments to think things through and is only able to come up with an idea that can at best be described as 'suicidal'. On the other hand ...

... he's pretty sure it'll work.

*****

The compound has been in total darkness for only a few minutes when Vasquez hears the scream. At first he thinks it's Joshua again - the pained sound that man had let out when the bullet had struck him still distressingly fresh in his mind - only to belatedly realize it's come from the completely opposite direction. He raises his head to look for the others, spotting Sam and Billy off to one side, Sam looking none the worse for wear while Billy is noticeably favoring one of his back legs. Sam catches his eye and jerks his body towards the spot Joshua had indicated contained Bogue's personal sanctuary. Putting two and two together, Vasquez figures Emma's gone on ahead and is probably the root cause of the noise he'd just heard. Understanding having dawned, Vasquez wastes no time in getting himself moving. He lopes towards the building, noting as goes that there's more than one guard sprawled limply along the path. He follows the trail of bodies and is halfway down the hallway that Emma had apparently vanished down in her hunt for Bogue when he hears another scream. He picks up speed, his paws scrabbling a little on the sleek metal flooring, almost coming out from under him as he skids into the room where the noise had come from.

Emma’s in the centre of the room, fully human and kneeling in front of a massive wooden desk that looks like it’d been occupied prior to her arrival. He shifts back to human as well, clearing his throat as he stands to announce his arrival. His eyes don’t leave the man lying crumpled on the floor in a spreading red pool.

There’s blood dripping down Emma’s chin as she stands up and turns around. Vasquez would comment, except he imagines it’s a mirror of his own, only fresher. “Is he dead?” He asks, already knowing what the answer will be. No one but the dead lie with such stillness.

Emma shudders, a full body thing that sends her limbs trembling, but only for a moment. When she nods it’s a firm thing, full of conviction that what she’s done is right. Considering he’d also ripped out a man’s throat tonight, Vasquez wouldn’t judge even if he wanted to.

He opens his arms and waits. She’ll come to him if she wants to.

It seems that she does. She stays still for a second or two and then takes one step followed by another and then another, exactly how many she needs to put herself in the circle of his arms and bury her face in his chest. “It’s over,” she gasps wetly, her ever-present hurt over Matthew brimming to the surface.

“Yes,” he agrees. “Finally.”

Emma lets him hold her for maybe an entire minute, and then she’s pushing him away, her composed face showing no signs of the emotions she’s momentarily let boil over. “We need to get out of here,” she says crisply. “The police will be along eventually, and a wild animal attack won’t fly as an excuse if we’re still here.”

“Sam and Billy are nearby. We’ll get them and go.” Vasquez tells her. Then he turns to look out the large bay window that dominates the outside wall of the office. Unlike this building, with its separate generator, there’s not a single light showing in the compound.

Emma follows his gaze. “Looks like Joshua held up his end of the deal.”

Vasquez freezes. He’d been so distracted by finding Bogue dead at Emma’s feet – the enormity of what that meant for the pack as a whole only barely beginning to sink in – that he’d forgotten all about the fifth person who’d come in with them. Joshua had been moving the last time Vasquez had seen him, and he’d obviously made it to the operations room but he’d been forced to do all that while bleeding from a gunshot wound. There was no telling what kind of shape he was in now.

“I have to go,” Vasquez barks, moving away from Emma and heading for the door.

“What? Vasquez!” She grabs for his arm and tries to hold him in place. “What’s wrong?”

“Joshua was shot the last time I saw him,” he says as a wild feeling of panic starts thrumming in his chest. He can’t believe he’d forgotten this, can’t believe he’d somehow been able to push the image of Joshua hitting the ground with a pained cry and then struggling back to his feet out of his mind. “He was still moving, but …”

“No, I understand.” Emma releases her grip and waves him on. “Go find him. I’ll get the others, and we’ll be right behind you.”

He gives her a grateful nod and breaks into a run. Shifting mid-stride, he hits the ground on all fours and lets his legs send him bolting back the way he’d come, fully intent on finding wherever Joshua has gotten to, and praying the man hasn’t wound up dead thanks to a stubborn sense of nobility.

He’s barely crossed the threshold of the main building when he starts to smell the blood.

*****

Faraday’s pretty sure he’s dying. There’s no way he can feel this awful and still be expected to survive it. Even ignoring the pain in his leg from the final bullet, his entire torso is screaming at him and he can taste copper as blood bubbles up in his mouth and spills down over his lips. Yep, definitely not getting out of this one.

And yet, he decides it could be worse. As far as he’s aware none of the pack got hurt tonight, and now Bogue and his men won’t be around to bother them. Whatever happens to Faraday, that’s over and done with.

Maybe if he’s really lucky, Alejandro will even think of him fondly every now and then.

He lies there, blinking blearily in the room as his vision starts to darken – which can’t possibly be a good sign. Unexpectedly, he hears a sharp, repetitive clicking sound echoing down the hallway he’d previously walked through that he slowly registers as that of claws moving along metal flooring. That’s not good, none of the pack should be anywhere near this place, let alone coming after Faraday. He’d specifically told them not to do that.

The view in front of him is hazy, partly due to poor lighting and partly due to his impending unconsciousness, but he doesn’t miss it when a dark shape, moving low to the ground materializes out of the gloom. It’s just a blur at first, too far away for him to make out any distinguishing features, but it’s coming closer with speed.

Faraday feels his eyes droop shut before it reaches him and he must pass out for a minute or more because when he opens them again there’s a warm, callused hand wrapped around his chin and Alejandro’s dark eyes are peering down at him worriedly.

“Joshua,” he says, and his voice is tense enough that Faraday doubts this is the first time he’s done so. “Madre de Dios, Joshua, what did you do?”

Faraday coughs then, spitting up more blood in the process. “Isn’t it obvious?” He asks, forever determined to make light of the most serious of situations. “I won.”

Alejandro makes a whining sound low in his throat, pressing his hands down over the worst of Faraday’s wounds in a futile effort to staunch the blood flow, and shakes his head. “Joshua, this is not the time for jokes.”

He sounds panicked, like he’s legitimately upset that Faraday’s going to be out of his life and won’t be a problem anymore. As much as Faraday had just been thinking he’d like to have Alejandro remember him fondly every now and again, he definitely doesn’t want him to feel _sad_. Faraday’s done nothing for him worth feeling sad over.

Bringing one hand up, he weakly pats the side of Alejandro’s face with it. “Hey,” he says tiredly. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

He pats Alejandro again and then frowns when he notices there’s blood on the other man’s face, and not blood that’s just come off Faraday’s hand either, it’s too dry for that and there’s a lot of it. “Shit,” he breathes. “Shit, you’re hurt.”

“What?” Alejandro briefly looks up from where he’s trying to pad Faraday’s wounds with strips of a torn shirt he’s gotten from somewhere. “Oh, no. It’s not mine, Joshua. I’m fine.”

Confused, Faraday wonders how Alejandro could possibly have gotten blood that isn’t his own all over his face, and then he remembers the first bullet he’d taken outside of the compound and the snarling wolf that had come bursting out of the night while he’d clawed his way back onto his feet. “That was you?” He murmurs, surprised. “You took out McCann?”

Alejandro lets out a laugh that’s tinged with hysteria. “I didn’t stop to ask him his name, but if you mean the head Blackstone – I ripped out his throat.”

Faraday’s pretty sure that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for him and he says as much, then he yelps when Alejandro presses his fingers down more heavily on his wounds. It hurts, oh fuck but it hurts like hell, the only thing bringing him any comfort being how, if he has to die, at least he won’t be alone when it happens, not like his Ma was. He thinks that’s worth something at least.

“Joshua, you are not dying. Do you hear me? You are not fucking dying on me after everything that’s happened. Stay awake, guero.”

Faraday opens his eyes at that, once again not having realized that they’d slipped shut of their own accord. “Didn’t think I’d ever hear you call me that again,” he rasps.

Every word is a struggle to get out at this point, but there’s something he needs to say while he still has time. He pats clumsily at Alejandro’s face again, getting more insistent until Alejandro turns to look at him. “You know I’m sorry, right? For everythin’? Because, sweetheart, I promise you I am. So, so sorry.”

Alejandro twists free of Faraday’s clutches and does back to what he was doing. “Stop talking, guero, you need to conserve your strength. Focus on staying awake, _please_.”

Faraday shakes as head. As much as he’d like to do anything Alejandro asks of him, he doesn’t think that’s an order he can follow. He stares up at the man, pitching his voice insistently. “Tell me you know. Alejandro, _tell me you know_. Shit, sorry,” he adds. “Forgot I wasn’t supposed to call you that.”

“It’s fine,” Alejandro says. “All of it is fine. And, yes,” he continues when Faraday starts struggling to get his mouth open again, “I know you’re sorry. It was – it was all a misunderstanding.”

That’s putting it mildly as far as Faraday’s concerned, but so long as Alejandro gets that he’d never meant to hurt him, had never meant to hurt _anybody_ that didn’t deserve it, then it’s alright. He can live with that, or at least die with it.

“Hell of a misunderstanding,” he slurs. His eyes slip shut for the final time and the last thing he hears is Alejandro telling him he’s not allowed to die. It’s nice to know he cares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is easily my least favorite section of this fic, as it gave me more trouble than should have been physically possible, but it's done and the third and final part should be much easier to polish up and get ready for you all. Here's hoping!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we've reached the end. I also can't believe this is the longest story I've ever written. Huge thanks to anyone who's stuck with me for this crazy ride :)

He knows it’s ridiculous, but Vasquez is beginning to hate the sound of the steady beep of the heart monitor attached to Joshua’s chest. He shouldn’t – he should be goddamned thrilled every time the machine sings out, signalling with each tone one more moment where Joshua’s battered body has managed to keep breathing – but he does all the same. As far as he’s concerned the sound just means that Joshua’s still stuck here, unconscious and only being kept alive through a combination of the machines he’s hooked up to and sheer, stubborn force of will. Vasquez hates it all.

Sitting perched on the edge of the uncomfortable chair that’s all but become a part of him during the three days since the firefight, he scrubs tiredly at his face with his hands and then stares over at Joshua, silently willing the man to wake up so they can figure out what to do next. It doesn’t work, though. Joshua’s eyes remain closed, and even the rise and fall of his chest does next to nothing to make him look like anything other than a corpse that’s been hooked up to more tubes and wires than any person should ever have to endure.

A slight cough rings out behind him, but Vasquez doesn’t bother to turn around. He knows who it is, and steels himself for another lecture.

“I see you’re back again.” Dr. Sarassa Attiyah is an old friend of Sam’s. Or, to be more precise, she’s an old friend of Sam’s mother, the two of them having been childhood friends in the same small town back in Kansas. When Sam had been looking for a place to relocate his new pack, her nearby presence had played a part in the final decision.

As it happens, Sarassa’s been nothing short of a godsend over the past few days. The only thing Vasquez could do without being her insistence that he can’t stay in the hospital 24/7. Or that he isn’t supposed to, anyway.

He hunches his shoulders protectively, bracing for the brunt of her ire when he admits, “Still here actually.”

Sarassa lets out an irritated sound as she comes further into the room and crosses into his line of sight. For all she sounds annoyed, however, she doesn’t look surprised. “You need to go home, she says, rolling her eyes when he shakes his head in refusal. “Yes, you do. You need to rest, and he’s not allowed to have visitors around the clock. It’s against hospital policy.”

“He is not staying here alone,” Vasquez tells her firmly, the mere thought of it setting his stomach roiling. Joshua’s been alone for enough of his life, and Vasquez will be damned if he doesn’t have someone at his side while he suffers through this.

“Then have one of the others come stay with him.” She insists. “If you have to break the rules, at least portion it out a little so it’s not all falling on your shoulders here.”

Vasquez shakes his head again. “They barely know him. It needs to be me.”

She snorts at that and says tartly, “From what I’ve managed to get out of Sam, it doesn’t sound like you know him all that well either.”

“Sam’s wrong. I don’t care what he’s told you, but he is.” He forces himself to look away from Joshua and meets her inquiring gaze head on, needing her to understand. Joshua certainly hadn’t been innocent by any stretch of the imagination, but in the end neither had Vasquez himself.

“Well, regardless, you’ve left me no choice but to bring in the big guns.” Raising one hand, she gestures someone else into the room. “Come deal with him, would you? I’m too old to wrestle a recalcitrant werewolf into submission.”

“You should be careful about what you say, Sarassa.” Emma informs her, although Vasquez notes she doesn’t sound concerned. “You never know who might be listening.”

Sarassa makes a face as she leans down to study something on one of the monitors near Joshua’s head. “I’ll take my chances, thanks.”

Vasquez makes a face at her behind her back, but immediately schools his expression into something more polite when she turns around. “How is he?” He asks, the same way he has every other time she’s stopped by to check in.

“He’s getting stronger,” she says, and he’s almost positive she isn’t lying just to make him feel better. “It’s hard to tell with such a significant injury, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he wakes up sooner rather than later.”

That was certainly nice to hear, but truth be told, Vasquez will believe it when he sees it. Until he sees Joshua awake with his own two eyes, he’s going to keep on telling himself not to get his hopes up. He’d had a front row seat to the absurd amount of damage the man had sustained, and to this day he still can’t believe he’s alive.

As Sarassa leaves to continue on her rounds, Emma comes over and rests her hands on Vasquez’s shoulders, almost but not quite petting him. “You really do need to go home,” she says softly.

“I do not,” he replies, and while his tone may be as low as hers is, it comes with a hard edge that dares her to argue with him.

She sighs. “You need to sleep in a real bed and eat something that didn’t come out of that horrible cafeteria. You like food with flavour, remember?”

“Goodnight sent supper with Sam the last time he was here,” Vasquez informs her. “I’m fine.”

He can’t be sure because she’s still behind him, but he thinks she gives an exasperated shake of her head. “Is there anything I can say to convince you to let me take you out of here? Even if it’s only for a little while?”

The questions make him turn around, so that he can look her in the eye. “If it were Matthew,” he starts, grateful when she doesn’t flinch at the name, “what would you do?”

Her expression softens. “So, it’s still like that, is it?”

Not liking her tone, he turns away again. “It doesn’t matter what it’s like. All I am going to do is stay here until he wakes up. Once that happens, that will be that.”

“That will be that?” She repeats, coming around so she can see his face. “Do you mean to tell me you’re not going to tell him how you feel? Because you’ve been posted here by his side for the last seventy two hours, so it’s not like everyone doesn’t know where you stand.”

He scowls at her, unable to believe she’d ask him such a dense question. “Of course I’m not going to,” he says tightly. “I almost got him killed! There’s no coming back from that – no forgiveness. Nothing.”

Emma stares at him, and as he watches her eyebrows slowly rise towards her hairline. “Why are you blaming yourself for this? You didn’t shoot him.”

“I might as well have,” he snaps. Tiredly, he scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. “He never would have gone in there if I hadn’t made him feel like he had something to prove. I’m the one who told him he owed us.”

Emma gives him a long look, and he practically can see it as she considers and discards several possible responses before finally settling on, “I think you’re doing him a disservice. I don’t think he ran headfirst into that fight because he wanted to prove you wrong, I think he did it because he’s a good man who made a mistake and intended to set it right.”

Vasquez leans back in his seat with a tired huff. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m not arguing that he’s a good man. Obviously, he is. That fact has been well established. What I am saying is that he wouldn’t have gone above and beyond what he needed to do if it wasn’t for me.”

She snorts. “Alejandro, if he did anything that night because of you, it was to protect you, not to earn your forgiveness. Give him that much credit at least.”

When he remains stubbornly silent, she throws up her hands. “Fine, alright, you go on making yourself more miserable than you have to just because you feel guilty. I’ll leave you to it for now, but don’t be surprised if someone else comes along to try and collect you before the day is out. The others are starting to worry.”

“Then I will feel guilty about that too,” he says, and doesn’t quite manage to dodge the swipe she aims at his head as she walks out of the room.

*****

Waking up in a hospital bed is not high on Faraday’s list of favorite things to do, but he supposes it’s preferable to not waking up at all. There’s a steady beeping noise coming from nearby, he thinks it’s probably a heart monitor, and a dull ache in his chest that seems less serious than one might expect considering he’d been shot at least four times that he could recall.

Deciding it’s worth the risk; he gets his arms situated beneath him and slowly pushes up off the bed. Unfortunately, he’s weak as a newborn kitten and all this accomplishes is having his arms give out before he’s even halfway up, causing him to land on his back with a displeased grunt.

There’s a grumbling sound off to the side. Faraday cranes his neck to see what’s making it and is shocked to find Alejandro slumped in an uncomfortable looking hospital chair, sound asleep and contorted into a position that makes Faraday hurt just to look at him.

Half-believing he’s hallucinating, he’s likely on some hellishly powerful painkillers, after all, Faraday stretches out a hand and pokes the man in the knee, the only part of him he can reach without sitting up. Alejandro stirs at this but doesn’t wake up, so Faraday does it again, jabbing a little harder the second time.

Alejandro makes an annoyed sound in his sleep and drags his leg back out of Faraday’s reach. Yet, he still doesn’t wake up.

“Oh, come on, man,” Faraday grumbles. “Hey, Ale – Vasquez! Wake up, would you?”

Alejandro stirs again, this time much more forcibly and comes sputtering to wakefulness in the middle of the room. “Whaa – oh!” Upon seeing Faraday looking back at him, he scrambles out of his chair over to the bedside, wrapping his hands over the bed railing and searching Faraday over. “You’re awake,” he blurts, looking a little wild-eyed. “When did that happen? Do you need anything? Has the doctor seen you yet?”

“Hey,” Faraday says, feeling overwhelmed in the face of this bombardment. “I just woke up. Like, literally just now.”

“Oh.” Alejandro says all confused like, as if he doesn’t know what to do with this. One of his hands reaches out towards Faraday, possibly of its own volition if the way he yanks it back before it makes contact with him is any indication. “Doctor,” he says shaking himself. “The doctor should see you. I don’t know if she’s here, but you’ve been unconscious for almost four days. Someone should definitely do … something.”

Faraday starts to protest - it looks like Alejandro is willing to talk to him again, and he’d rather have that over some doctor’s company any day of the week – but the were’s up and out of the room before he can try and come up with a way to say so.

The door to the hospital room closes behind Alejandro’s retreating back, but it must be made from a thinner material than it first appears because Faraday can hear voices, albeit faint and muffled.

It’s not long before Alejandro’s back, this time with an older, dark skinned woman in scrubs who follows right on his heels. “This is Dr. Sarassa Attiyah,” he says, nodding at the woman as he shuffles over to make room for her by Faraday’s bed. “She’s, well … she’s very good.”

Dr. Attiyah snorts as she unhooks a collection of medical charts from the side of the bed. Faraday hadn’t noticed them until now. “I think what he means to say is I’m very discrete. That and I could probably double as veterinarian at this point in my life, or at least someone who specializes in dogs.”

Alejandro grins at this, and Faraday’s eyebrows fly up in surprise. “We’re wolves, Sarassa. Not dogs.”

“Wolf is just another name for big dog, you fur ball,” she tells him loftily. “Now let’s take a look at your friend here. I’m told you’re entirely human,” she adds, turning her attention to Faraday.

Still caught up in the surprise that the doctor apparently knows about Alejandro and the rest of his pack, all he can do is nod, which causes the woman to make a noise like she’s impressed and shake her head.

“If that’s the case it’s even more amazing that you’re alive. You were shot five times,” she says, and Faraday doesn’t miss it when Alejandro winces behind her. “Three times in the chest, once in the lower torso, and then again in your right leg. The fact that not a single bullet so much as nicked a vital organ is nothing short of a miracle. You’ve got the devil’s own luck, Mr. Faraday.”

“Joshua’s fine, Ma’am,” he says, squirming a little under the weight of her gaze, “and I’m not sure how lucky I feel to be honest.”

“You’re alive,” Alejandro says, and Faraday’s not expecting how forceful his words are. “You’re alive and you are going to stay that way.”

Faraday, who can freely admit that he’s never been good when things start getting emotional, sort of shies away from this, glancing instead over at Dr. Attiyah because he doesn’t know how to deal with whatever’s happening with Alejandro. “Is that true, Doc? Am I really goin’ to make it?”

If the way the good doctor rolls her eyes is any indication, he’s pretty sure she can see right through him. “So long as you stay away from firefights for the next little while, you should be fine. Honestly, your biggest issue was blood loss, but you can thank the pack there. They’re decent enough medics in their own right and know a thing or two about staunching wounds. They only use me when they’re desperate.”

“That’s not true,” Alejandro protests. “We called you that time Billy got the fishhook stuck in his paw.”

“Because Goodnight was having an aneurysm and wouldn’t let anyone pull the damn thing out. Like I said, desperate.”

Alejandro makes a grumbling sound, but doesn’t try to contradict her again.

Dr. Attiyah stays for a little while longer, until she’s satisfied that Faraday’s in as good a shape as possible given his situation, and then she leaves. According to her a nurse will be along soonish with his next round of painkillers, but otherwise he’s being left to his own devices.

“She seems nice,” Faraday remarks once he’s sure the old woman is out of earshot.

Alejandro snorts. “She is a harpy. The last time she needed to look at me for something, she pulled my tail because I was not behaving the way she wanted.”

Faraday chuckles at this, wincing when the motion jars some of the stitching in his chest.

“Alright there, guero?” Alejandro asks with a frown when he notices this.

Faraday freezes. Alejandro hasn’t called him by that silly nickname of his since back before the mess in the alleyway, having chosen instead to not really call him much of anything and just snarl when he was forced to communicate. “I’m fine,” he mumbles, finding his voice only after too much time has passed. “Just sore like the Doc said I would be.”

“Of course you’re sore,” Alejandro agrees, and he doesn’t look happy when he says it. “You had more bullets in you than blood when I found you in that room.”

Faraday blinks. “You found me?” He echoes. “You weren’t supposed to be anywhere near that place.”

“The fight was over and all of Bogue’s men had been dealt with.” Alejandro shrugs, like it’s not a big deal, like he’s not admitting he’d wandered into the worst part of the enemy stronghold despite knowing Faraday was already very likely dead. Since he had not, in fact, actually been dead, Faraday supposes he should appreciate this. Mainly though, he just feels bothered by the thought of Alejandro taking such a risk.

He wants to say as much, but when he looks back up at Alejandro the words won’t come. Instead, he takes the coward’s way out. “What happened to Bogue? Did someone get him?”

If he notices the awkward segue, Alejandro doesn’t say anything. “Emma did. She, well, let’s just say she got her teeth and claws into him and leave it at that.”

That’s as good a way as any to avenge her husband as far as Faraday’s concerned. There was certainly a sense of poetic justice to it, and no one would be able trace the death back to her if it looked like it’d come from an animal.

“Good for her,” he decides, pleased to hear that justice has been served. He thinks about the men Bogue had had in his employment. “What about the rest of his people? McCann? Please tell me someone got McCann.” He has a sudden memory of a furry body landing heavily on the bastard’s face, but he’s not sure if it was real or some kind of fever dream.

“You mean the one in charge of security?” Alejandro asks. “The one that shot you the first time? Joshua, I killed him for that. You really don’t remember?”

His face heating at the thought of Alejandro doing something like that for him, Faraday shakes his head. “The last thing I remember it taking out the goons in the operations room. After that …” After that he mainly remembers waiting to die. However, he gets the feeling Alejandro wouldn’t appreciate hearing him says as much, so he keeps his mouth shut and shrugs instead.

“Well, I found you,” Alejandro tells him. “You were delirious and barely conscious, bleeding _everywhere_ , but you were alive and we managed to keep you that way.”

“For which I am very much appreciative,” Faraday informs him. “Though delirium, huh? Bet that was fun. Hope I didn’t say anythin’ too embaraassin’.”

Alejandro doesn’t reply right away, and when he does speak his voice is soft. “You asked if I knew you were sorry. In fact, you asked it repeatedly. I couldn’t get you to stop and let me look at the mess you’d made of yourself until I told you I did.”

Faraday winces, feeling his face flush somehow impossibly warmer. He’d qualify that as embarrassing. “Sorry about that. The last concerns of a dyin’ man and all that jazz.”

Alejandro sighs. “You need to stop apologizing. I know you’re sorry. I knew it then too. Hell, I knew it before that even if I didn’t want to admit it. Funny thing though,” he cocks his head to the side, his gaze heavy and weighted, “you never once asked if I forgave you.”

Faraday tears his own gaze away and drops it to the bed as he fiddles with the sheets beneath his fingers. “Yeah, well, I can’t say as I think I deserve to be forgiven.”

“That’s too bad, since as I forgive you anyway.”

Faraday does glance up at that, and Alejandro makes a face at him. “Don’t look so surprised, guero. I’d say you’ve earned it, no?”

“No.” He disagrees, and it’s only in part because he enjoys being contrary.

Alejandro rolls his eyes and drops back into the seat he’d vacated when Faraday had first woken him up. “I hope you know I’m going to smack you for that as soon as you’re healthy enough for me to get away with it.”

In spite of everything, Faraday grins. He has no idea where he and Alejandro stand right now, but if he’s somehow managed to walk away from everything without the man completely hating him then he’s going to count it as a win. Especially if he’s still alive on top of everything else.

*****

Joshua’s sitting up in his hospital bed the next time Vasquez goes to visit him. Vasquez has no idea if he’d managed this on his own of if one of the medical staff had seen fit to help him, but it’s a nice sight to behold and he’s choosing to take it as a sign that the recovery process is moving along appropriately.

“Oh, thank god,” Joshua says fervently when he catches Vasquez slipping into the room. “Please tell me you’re here to break me out. I am goin’ out of my goddamned mind sittin’ around here all day, every day with nothin’ to do.”

Vasquez frowns at him. “You’ve been here for less than a week, guero,” he points out, “and you were unconscious for more than three of those days. You’re in no shape to be going anywhere.”

Joshua shrugs and doesn’t quite manage to hide a wince when the motion jars one or more of the multiple wounds on his chest. “That’s just what the doctor wants you to believe,” he says dismissively. “I’ll be good to go as soon as someone’ll see fit to let me out of this prison.”

Vasquez’s frown deepens. He does not at all like where this conversation seems to be heading. “Go where? You can’t go back to your hotel. The reservation is long gone and there’s no one there to look after you.”

Joshua gives him an approximation of a winning smile, one Vasquez doesn’t trust for a second. “Who says I need lookin’ after? This isn’t the first time I’ve been hurt. I’ll be fine.”

“You were shot _five times_!” Vasquez protests, his voice rising without his permission on the last two words. “You are not _fine._ You’re not even close to fine. What you are is very lucky you’re not _dead_.”

“Yes and no,” Joshua disagrees, waving one hand airily. “At least if I was dead I wouldn’t have to worry about all the unaffordable medical bills I’m rackin’ up.”

Vasquez blinks. He hadn’t even considered how that might be a problem, but upon reflection he realizes the werewolf hunting business probably doesn’t come with a health plan and even if it does, Joshua’s made it very clear he’s out of a job now. Vasquez has no idea about the state of the man’s finances, but any savings he has are bound to run out eventually.

“Regardless,” he says, pushing that thought stream to the side for the moment, “you can’t just leave. You’re still hurt.” There were other, more complicated reasons why Vasquez didn’t want him to leave as well, but there was no point in getting into those.

Joshua gives him another smile, this one tinged with an edge of something that Vasquez suspects he’d put more effort into hiding if he wasn’t so banged up. “I’ve been on my own an awfully long time, big guy. I can take care of myself.”

Vasquez wants to tell him that no, he can’t – obviously he can’t, or he wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place – but he bites down on the protest. Instead he crosses his arms over his chest and says firmly, “Well, you shouldn’t have to.” A thought occurs to him, and he doesn’t know why he didn’t think of it before now. “We have plenty of space at home and people who can help. If it’s money you’re worried about then you will just have to come and stay with us.”

Joshua gapes at him. “Are you insane?” He asks, sounding legitimately concerned for Vasquez’s mental wellbeing. “Did you get hit on the head during the fight and nobody noticed? Alejandro, I am the last person on the planet your pack is goin’ to want convalescin’ in your territory. Don’t be crazy.”

When Vasquez opens his mouth to speak again, Joshua waves a hand to keep him quiet. “No. Thank you for the offer, really, but it’s not a big deal. I’ll weasel my way out of this place in a day or two and then I’ll be out of your hair. No muss, no fuss.”

Since they’re no longer at the point where Vasquez is allowed to say he doesn’t want Joshua out of his hair, he keeps the thought to himself and glares down at the other man from his superior vantage point. “This discussion is not over,” he promises.

“It is for now,” Joshua shoots back. “C’mon, if you’re goin’ to insist I stay here the least you can do is entertain me. Why not tell me what’s goin’ on out in the real world? Or, better yet, why don’t you go find me some real food? We both know how good you are at scrounging.”

Still frustrated but trying not to show it, Vasquez shakes his head in refusal and takes up his usual spot in the chair next to Joshua’s bedside, trying to think of something worth saying. He’ll keep Joshua amused for now and worry about the rest later.

*****

He spends about an hour or so sitting around in the hospital room, but Joshua’s worked himself into a mood thanks to their discussion surrounding the state of his health and Vasquez decides discretion is the better part of valor and heads for his car sooner than he’d intended. Either luckily or unluckily, he runs into Sarassa on his way out, and she quirks a knowing eyebrow when she spots him.

“Back again are we?”

Vasquez makes a face at her, he’s in no mood to play games thanks to the afternoon he’s just had. He can’t believe Joshua thinks he can just hit the road on his own within the next couple of days. “How long before you’re going to release him?” He asks, not missing the way her eyebrows jump in surprise at his tone.

“Well, you’re in a bit of a snit, aren’t you?” She grumbles, the slightest edge of a reprimand lurking in her own voice. “Honestly, you’re usually more polite than this.”

Tiredly, Vasquez scrubs a hand over his face and then moves it up to run it through his hair. “Sorry. I’m just – he’s talking about leaving the hospital whether people think he’s ready or not, and I don’t like it.”

Sarassa snorts at this. “Absolutely not. That boy isn’t going anywhere until I’m satisfied he won’t keel over and die if someone so much as looks at him wrong. I’ll tie him to the damned bed until he’s ready if I have to.”

“And when will he be ready?” Vasquez asks.

She wrinkles her nose thoughtfully. “Not for several days certainly, but more likely weeks. He’s strong and healing well, but getting shot five times is getting shot five times. If he doesn’t rest and take enough time to let his body recover he’ll wind up with setbacks.”

“That’s what I thought,” Vasquez mutters. He once again considers his earlier suggestion, and waves an aborted goodbye to Sarassa as he takes off down the hallway, already formulating how best to bring the idea up with the rest of the pack.

*****

“Are you insane?” Billy demands. He’s perched on the back of one of the living room couches, Goodnight in front of him and basically sitting on his feet, and Vasquez is a little taken aback by the vitriol in the smaller man’s voice.

“No, I’m not,” he snaps, beginning to feel slightly picked on, what with the way Joshua had already asked him the same thing, “and I’m getting tired of people suggesting as much.” He glances around the room, trying to meet the gaze of each of his pack members in turn. “Why shouldn’t we bring him here? He helped save our lives and he has nowhere else to go. We owe him.”

“Our lives only needed saving because he helped put them in danger in the first place,” Billy snaps back. “And he only did part of the work, we did the rest.”

“But he didn’t have to do anything,” Vasquez points out. “He could have just left, or worse, kept helping Bogue once he knew the truth. Instead, he almost died doing something he had no need to do. Even you can’t deny that, Billy.”

“So that means we should up and let him move in with us?” Billy scowls.

“Where did you get that?” Vasquez demands. “I only said we should let him stay here until he’s healthy again, not invite him forever.” Vasquz will freely admit, at least to himself if not the others, that he’d be perfectly happy with Joshua staying with them for good; he’s just not stupid enough to think it’s ever going to happen.

Billy makes a disbelieving sound, one he’s clearly about to follow up on until Goodnight reaches back and pinches his calf in rebuke. “Don’t you think you’re being just the slightest bit unfair, darling?” He asks in that unassuming way of his. “Like it or not, Joshua was willing to die for us. That’s got to be worth something, wouldn’t you say?”

“Thank you!” Vasquez barks. He waves a hand furiously at Goodnight, pleased that at least one other person here is capable of seeing reason. “That’s what I’ve been trying to get across.”

“We know what you’ve been trying to do, Vas,” Emma says then. “Some of us are just … concerned, is all. I mean, would he even want to come here?”

“That is not what I’m concerned about,” Billy mutters.

Goodnight pinches him again. “You just think the man talks too much, cher.”

“Well, he does,” Billy grouses, “but my other points stand. He was helping Bogue until he found out it was Vasquez he was going to put a bullet in.”

“He was helping Bogue because he’d been lead to believe we were attacking people,” Jack points out before Vasquez can more than sputter a response. “The fact that his finding out otherwise coincided with his learning what Vasquez is, what we all are, is irrelevant. He may be a bit of a showman, but he stuck to a code of ethics.”

“And it sounds like he’s getting out of the hunting business for good after everything that’s happened.” Goodnight adds.

“He is.” Vasquez stresses at the same time that Billy mutters, “Or so he says he is,” low enough that he almost misses it.

Vasquez glares at him. He understands Billy’s reluctance to trust Joshua, but he’s being unfair. Besides which, they all seemed to be forgetting something else. “Joshua already knows who we are, where we live, everything. There is nothing he can learn from staying here that would change what we’re already facing.”

“See, now that just sounds like a reason to do away with him permanently,” Billy says, and Vasquez is about five seconds away from shifting and going for the man’s throat. Thankfully, this last crack finally makes Sam see fit to step in.

“Absolutely not,” he says, voice firm for all that it comes out in that ever-mild tone of his. “And don’t even joke about it,” he adds, holding Billy’s gaze until the other man rolls his eyes and nods.

“Fine,” he mutters. “I wasn’t actually being serious. I find the man annoying, but I don’t need to see him dead any more than the rest of you do.”

“No, you just need to see him forced out onto the street while he’s trying to recover from a near death experience,” Goodnight points out, much to Vasquez’s surprise. “Or at least that’s how it’s starting to sound,” he adds when Billy nudges him none too gently with a knee.

“I don’t need to see that either,” Billy huffs finally. “I’m just … being cautious.”

“The man’s got five separate bullet holes in him,” Emma points out, once again beforeVasquez can step in and say something. “How much damage do you think he could possibly do to us?”

Goodnight grins at this and cranes his neck to look up at Billy. “You’ve got to admit the woman’s got a point, cher. The way I see it, the biggest threat poor Joshua poses to us is to our eardrums. Good lord, but that boy can talk.”

“I like him,” Teddy pipes up then, startling Vasquez, who’d forgotten he was even the room. Their youngest shrugs when everyone turns to look in his direction, and then he nudges Red in the shoulder where he’s sitting next to him. “So does Red for the record. He’s funny.”

Red rolls his eyes and stays silent, but for once he doesn’t disagree with something simply because it’s come from Teddy’s mouth first.

Feeling vindicated, Vasquez looks back at Sam. The pups were onboard, Goodnight and Jack certainly seemed to be, and it obviously wasn’t a secret about how he himself felt. Add that to the fact that Emma hadn’t outright said no and how at least some of Billy’s protests appeared to be for show, and he thinks he can safely assume how this is going to pan out.

Sam knows it too – it’s clear in the way he huffs out a sigh that somehow manages to taper off into a laugh. “Alright, Vasquez, it looks like you’re goin’ to get your way on this one. How soon before Sarassa’ll see fit to release him into your clutches, do you figure?”

Pleased with his victory, Vasquez shrugs. “I have no idea. When I talked to her this morning she said he probably needed a couple weeks’ worth of care, but I don’t know if that was referring to the earliest she’d let him out of the hospital or the earliest she thought he’d be recovered for good.”

“Well find out, would you? We’re goin’ to have to figure out where we’re goin’ to put him, and we’ll probably have to do some work around here to get the place ready for an invalid.”

Vasquez breathes out a sigh of relief at Sam’s words. He can talk to Sarassa no problem and he’s pleased that the others are all at least now tacitly in agreement with the idea of bringing Joshua here.

Now all he has to do is find a way to convince the man in question it’s a good idea.

*****

“Are you sure no one’s goin’ to mind me recuperatin’ in your home?” Faraday asks. His timing is maybe not the best, not when they’re easily halfway between the hospital and the farmhouse already, and Alejandro sighs the sigh of a man who’s tired of answering the same question repeatedly.

“Si, guero,” he says, not bothering to look at Faraday as he deftly maneuvers the car in and out of traffic. “I’m certain of it.”

Faraday, however, keeps pressing. “What about Billy? Or Emma? Neither of them likes me too much. There were threats of dismemberment. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that.”

“That was before you nearly sacrificed your life to save us all,” Alejandro points out. “Not even Emma will hold a grudge after something like that.”

From what Faraday’s seen of Emma that is adamantly not true, but Alejandro sounds confident enough and he’s the one who’d know best in this instance.

There’s a scrabbling sound in the backseat behind them, and then Red’s curling his hands over the back of Alejandro’s chair and popping his head up between the two front seats. “No one’s going to kill you,” he affirms. “Sam already said we weren’t allowed.”

Alejandro makes an annoyed sound and slaps awkwardly at him with one hand, unable to get a decent angle since he’s the one driving. “Don’t help, cabrón, and pick a shape and stick to it. We don’t need to be pulled over by a cop who thinks they’ve just seen something crazy.”

“There’s a hundred cars on the road right now,” Red protests, even as he shuffles back. “No one’s looking.”

Faraday snorts and tries to settle more comfortably in his own seat. “Kid, you are buck ass naked back there right now. I will put solid money on someone eventually noticing that.”

Red lets out an aggrieved sigh. “People are nosy. And stop calling me kid.”

“Alright, alright, no fighting in the car,” Alejandro says before Faraday has a chance to respond. “Red, if you’re staying human put your seatbelt on. I’m willing to have an officer of the law deal with the nudity, but I’m not paying a five hundred dollar fine if you get caught without it.”

That must be a deal breaker because instead of the click of a seatbelt, Faraday hears the telltale sound of a shift from one form to another. “Why is he here again?” he asks. He’d been surprised enough when Alejandro had come collect him, staunchly refusing to take no for an answer until Faraday had given up and caved in, but he’d been even more confused at finding him with the younger were in tow.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Alejandro mutters, his attention currently on an SUV that’s just cut them off. “Personally, I think he was just looking for an excuse to get out of the house.”

He adds something rude sounding in Spanish, glaring intently at the SUV, and Faraday laughs. “Got a bit of road rage there, big guy?” He teases.

Alejandro snaps his teeth, a surprising amount of bite in the motion. “It’s not my fault there’s an idiot in front of us. If I had slower reflexes he could have caused an accident, and then where would we be? You’d be back in the hospital for who knows how long, or worse!”

“Hey,” Faraday says, concerned by how agitated the were is getting. “It’s fine. I have plenty of faith in your ability to get us to the farmhouse in one piece.”

Alejandro snorts. “Sure, if people will stop distracting me. Red!” he adds with a growl, “enough pawing at the window latch. It’s staying up.”

For his part Faraday has no idea what he’s talking about now, but there’s a guilty groaning sound from the back seat. “He wants to stick his head out the window,” Alejandro explains, the fingers of his left hand flying over the window lock buttons on his side of the car, “and he is not doing so because it is embarrassing.”

Red lets out another aggrieved noise at this. Faraday sits quietly for a second or two, and then slowly thumbs the window control buttons on his own side of the car. The window behind him quietly eases open, and Red lets out a pleased huff as he moves across the seat to get to it.

Alejandro slowly turns his head to give Faraday a death glare, and Faraday smiles sunnily back at him. “Cabrón,” Alejandro says finally, but Faraday’s almost positive it comes out fondly.

*****

The farmhouse doesn’t look all that different now than it had during Faraday’s previous visit, but it does seem a lot further away than it had the last time he’d climbed out of a car and set foot on the driveway.

“You going to make it inside, guero?” Alejandro asks as he walks around the car to Faraday’s side.

Faraday takes a deep, steadying breath and lets it out slowly. “Sure,” he decides. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you got shot five times,” Red says helpfully as he gets out of the car as well. He’s found a pair of shorts from someplace, where Faraday hasn’t the faintest idea, and has tugged them up over his hips. “One of us could carry you if you want. We’re stronger than normal humans.”

That’s a fact Faraday is all too aware of, but he’s going to ignore it for the time being. He’d already said no to a wheelchair when leaving the hospital, he’ll be damned if he lets either of these clowns haul him around like a half-dead sack of potatoes now. “I’m fine thanks,” he tells Red.

He gets a shrug in return, one that just as clearly states “suit yourself” as if Red had said it out loud.

Taking another deep breath, Faraday turns in the direction of the house and steels himself for the jarring sensation he gets whenever he moves his right leg. He’s just about to start walking when he feels an unexpected hand curl around his elbow.

“Just me,” Alejandro says when Faraday jumps a little. He has Faraday’s lone bag of possessions – all they’d been able to recover from his trashed hotel room – in his other hand, and as Faraday watches, he tosses it at Red’s chest with an easy throw. “Make yourself useful and takes this up to the house, will you?”

Red gives him a look, the kind where he’s clearly considering saying something rude, but decides to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he hooks the bag over one shoulder and sets off towards the house at a steady trot that Faraday can’t hope to match in his current condition.

Faraday watches him go, suddenly tired. “You know,” he says with a sigh, “I think hanging around you lot is starting to make me feel old.”

Alejandro makes a considering noise and then shakes his head. “That’s not us, guero. That’s you getting shot five times.”

Faraday grimaces at the subtle reminder of why he’s here. “You really need to stop bringing that up,” he grouses.

“Stop giving me reason to and I will,” Alejandro assures him. “Now come on, I didn’t bring you all the way out here so that you could recuperate in the driveway.”

“How about the front lawn?” Faraday asks as they begin slowly meandering their way over to the house. “I’m tired, and it’s the closer of the two.”

“No, not on the lawn either,” Alejandro replies. “We’ve got a real bed set up for you and everything. Much nicer than that thing they had you lying on in the hospital.”

Faraday has to admit that does sound good. The hospital bed had been far from comfortable, what with it having a mattress that was far too thin and a shape that could be best described as ‘one size fits nobody’. Being able to convalesce in a real bed was almost enough to make up for how awkward this little visit of his was no doubt bound to be.

Sam, Emma and Billy are all waiting near the main entrance when he and Alejandro eventually get inside, the three of them in human shape and looking none the worse for wear after the ordeal they’ve all been through. He knows at least Billy had taken a couple of nasty hits during the fight, but he’ll be damned if he can see any signs of them on the man now. Lucky werewolf genes.

Clearing hiss throat as they step through the door, Sam nods affably at Faraday. “Good to see you on your feet, son. Even if it is only temporary for the moment.”

“Thanks,” Faraday replies, and he means it when he says it. Sam Chisolm does not strike him as a man who wastes his time with false platitudes, so if he’s saying he’s happy to see Faraday up and about then it’s probably true and the thought makes something pleasant unfurl in the pit of Faraday’s stomach.

“Red’s already gone upstairs with your things,” Emma cuts in then. “And the room’s all ready for you.”

“Fresh sheets and everything,” Billy rumbles beside her, and Faraday doesn’t miss the way he rolls his eyes at the notion. Even so, he doesn’t think there’s any real malice in Billy’s tone.

“Much obliged,” Faraday tells him, earning another eye roll in response.

Emma clears her throat, and Faraday can’t help but wonder if she can sense some form of mounting annoyance on Billy’s part and is trying to cut it off at the pass. “Sorry we had to put you all the way upstairs Faraday, but the only room on this level is Goodnight and Billy’s and Red and Teddy have the basement in such a state that it’s not fit to be used as a normal guestroom, let alone something more akin to a sickroom.”

Faraday frowns at her use of the word sickroom but decides to let it pass. “It’s fine,” he says pleasantly. “Honestly, you lot are already doin’ me a huge favor by lettin’ me stay here. You could put me on the roof and I’d still manage.”

“No one is putting you on the _roof_ , guero,” Alejandro mutters, glaring at Billy when he looks intrigued. “You have a room, and we are putting you in it now.”

It’s difficult for Faraday to resist the urge to make some inappropriate comment or other, but he’s proud to say he manages it. Keeping quiet altogether, he nods at Alejandro and doesn’t complain when the man’s hand wraps around his elbow again and he’s tugged gently towards the stairs.

They’re just starting to make their way up the stairwell when Faraday hears a door open and close somewhere off to the side, and the tell-tale sound of bare feet stepping quickly over wooden flooring rings out through the room. His grip still tight on the banister, Faraday turns to look and comes face to face with Teddy, who’s peering up at him with an excited expression on his face.

“I heard you come in,” he says brightly. “Can I help you with anything?”

Faraday, who doesn’t have much experience with children, even teenage ones, doesn’t know what to say. He glances over at Alejandro, who proves to be no help at all when his only response is to make a face back him.

“Why don’t you stay behind him in case he pitches back down the stairs?” Billy suggests, and Faraday is positive if he was willing to risk his already precarious balance by turning around, he’d find the other man with a smug smirk on his face. “That way someone will be there to catch him if he falls.”

“I hate ‘im,” he mutters low under his breath as Teddy chirps obligingly and comes around the stairs to do as Billy has suggested. “This is just embarassin’.”

“More walking, less talking,” Alejandro chides him. “The sooner you’re upstairs, the sooner everyone will leave you alone for the time being.”

Faraday huffs, but acknowledges that Alejandro’s made a good point. Therefore, he goes back to concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other and before he knows it they’ve reached the top of the stairs.

Red wanders out of a room at the end of the hallway at the same time and makes a face. “Took you long enough.” He grumbles, sounding annoyed.

“I’m an injured man here,” Faraday replies, willing to milk that for all it’s worth, but only when doing so suits him. “You’re not allowed to be snappy at me.”

“Yeah,” Teddy pipes up from behind him. Faraday can’t believe he’s still there. “Stop being an ass, Red.”

“You’re too young to say ass,” Red shoots back, moving around Faraday and Alejandro so that he can shove Teddy with his shoulder.

“Am not,” Teddy snaps, shoving him back, and Faraday doesn’t need to know anything about kids to know this is about five seconds from going south.

Luckily, Alejandro’s on it. “Take it downstairs,” he barks, snapping his teeth to give the order some extra bite. “No fighting where people are trying to heal.”

Red and Teddy make sounds of what Faraday assumes are meant to be agreement, and don’t even bother to look up as they continue to wrestle each other towards the stairs. As Faraday watches, Teddy breaks free of Red’s hold and goes darting down them with the older were hot on his heels. There’s a crashing sound once they’re no longer in sight, followed by Sam’s exasperated voice calling out from another room and telling them to knock it off.

Faraday shakes his head. “If that’s a regular occurrence around here then your property values must take a hit like once a week. What?” He asks defensively when Alejandro turns an incredulous stare on him. “It’s true.”

Alejandro’s mouth quirks up into a grin and he laughs. “I’m sure it is, guero.”

His face heating, Faraday shakes his arm free of Alejandro’s grasp and pushes open the door to the room that’s apparently his. He blinks. “Alejandro.” He says flatly.

“Si?” Alejandro asks, his voice taking on the cadence of a man who knows he’s about to have a fight on his hands and isn’t looking forward to it.

“Why does this look like a master bedroom?”

“Because it is one,” Alejandro replies. He pokes his head around Faraday and gestures at a closed door on one side of the room. “See? It’s got a separate bathroom and everything.”

“Uh uh. Nope. No way.” Faraday tries to pull back out of the room, but he’s thwarted in his attempts by the way Alejandro’s broad frame is blocking the doorway. “I did not agree to come here so that I could kick someone out of their room. Go tell whoever’s it is to take it back.”

Alejandro sighs. “It’s my room, Joshua, and I am not taking it back.”

That is somehow, inevitably, worse. Faraday opens his mouth to protest some more, but Alejandro cuts him off with a shake of his head.

“It’s the best place to put you. There’s nowhere downstairs that will work unless we want to shuffle multiple people around and the bathroom has a walk-in shower where you won’t have to worry about concussing yourself every time you climb in and out of a tub. I’ll be bunking with Jack in his room down the hall, and that barely counts since he sleeps outside unless the weather is bad.” He stares at Faraday, wide-eyed and earnest. “You’re staying here. End of discussion.”

Faraday makes a face at him. “I would not have agreed to come here if I’d known this was how it was going to play out.”

At that Alejandro rolls his eyes and makes a scoffing sound. “Obviously I knew that, you stubborn idiota. Why do you think I didn’t say anything?”

“I am not pleased about this,” Faraday says staunchly, and then promptly ruins it by moving into the room anyway.

Someone had thoughtfully pulled the bedcovers back prior to his arrival, and when Faraday sits down on the bed he runs his fingers idly over the crisp sheets covering the mattress. Sighing, he pulls his hand back and then leans forward to begin the laborious process of getting his boots off.

“Do not try to help me,” he grumbles when Alejandro looks like he’s about to do exactly that. “I’ve got this.”

It takes him a little longer than it should, but Faraday eventually manages to kick free of both his boots and socks and then he brings his legs up so that he’s lying lengthwise along the bed. The t-shirt he’s wearing is old and washed out, one he normally uses only for sleeping in anyway, but it occurs to him that sleeping in his jeans will be less than comfortable. He sighs.

“Fuck it,” he grits out, knowing full well that he’s officially too tired to do anything more on his own. “If anyone asks, this never happened.”

“Of course, geuro,” Alejandro assures him, having followed Faraday’s train of thought with no apparent difficulty. He comes over and rests his hands lightly on the hem of Faraday’s pants. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Faraday feels his face heat more as Alejandro makes quick work of his clothes, but the other man blessedly keeps any potential commentary to himself, merely letting out a little moue of distaste when he sees the spot where one of the bullets had punctured Faraday’s right leg.

“Bad business, that,” he murmurs as he folds Faraday’s jeans neatly in his hands and drops them onto the little end-table next to the bed.

Faraday shrugs and scoots along the bed until he’s lying in the centre of it, enjoying the way he has more space than he ever did in the hospital. Better pillows too, he thinks as he reclines back against a couple.

“It could’ve been worse,” he points out.

“Not by much.” Alejandro growls, as he tugs the blankets up from the bottom of the bed, settling them over Faraday with more care than he thinks is warranted. “I assume you want to nap for a bit?”

“You assume correctly,” Faraday agrees. He aches all over and a nap will have the added benefit of making that stop.

Alejandro hums a little to himself until he’s got the blankets situated to his satisfaction, and then he moves around the bed and over to the window. From what little Faraday can see from his current vantage point, he suspects this room looks out over the backyard and the wooded area beyond. He imagines it might be a nice view if he ever feels up to getting out of bed again.

Faraday’s fading fast, he knows he is, the drive and what little walking he had managed to do having taken pretty much everything he had, and the last thing he remembers as his eyes slip shut is Alejandro reaching up and tugging the curtains closed so that the room descends into darkness.

*****

The first time Faraday wakes up in Alejandro’s bed it’s against his will, and he lets out a pained groan when it happens.

“Sorry, Joshua,” a soft voice says above him, “but Sarassa says we have to keep up with your pain meds until you’re weaned off them.”

Faraday cracks his eyes open and sees Alejandro sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand still resting on Faraday’s shoulder where he’d used it to rouse him into wakefulness. “I hate you,” he grunts with no real heat.

Alejandro frowns at him for a second, looking a little hurt, but then his face smoothes out and he motions to where a couple of pills and a glass of water are resting atop the bedside table. “Just take these, and then you can go back to sleep. At least you won’t be on them for much longer.”

“I better,” Faraday grumbles. Between the pain and exhaustion he’s maybe not in the best of moods. Sleeping more of this off sounds like a good idea.

He lets Alejandro help him up long enough to get the pills and maybe a third of the water into his system, and then he settles back down against the pillows, already well on his way back to dreamland. “Thanks,” he murmurs as his eyes fall closed. He can’t be sure, but he thinks he feels a gentle hand cup his cheek right before he drifts off.

The second time he comes awake in Alejandro’s bed, he smells food. He’s woken up under his own power this time, still aching but nothing like he had the last time he’d been awake, and a quick look in the right direction reveals a tray containing a steaming bowl of soup and all manner of other things he thinks he’d enjoy eating sitting just out of reach.

“We figured you’d be up soon enough,” an unfamiliar voice drawls from somewhere on his left. Faraday cranes his neck and stiffens when he finds a man he’s never seen before relaxing back in a folding chair that he must have brought in with him.

“We can hear when you move from a deep sleep to something a little closer to wakefulness, you see,” the man continues on, seemingly oblivious to Faraday’s scrutiny. “I’ll admit it might be a bit akin to an invasion of privacy, but it’s bound to be useful when trying to perform this whole nursing thing.”

Faraday continues to stare at him. He takes in the slight frame, the dark hair and beard that are well on their way to grey, and the slightly hunted look around the man’s eyes. Then it clicks. “Goodnight?” He asks, figuring he’s right when the man gives a startled laugh.

“Oh lord. My apologies, Joshua. Where have my manners gone to? I’d forgotten you and I have never been properly introduced. Goodnight Robicheaux, at your service. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, son.”

“Likewise,” Faraday tells him as he starts struggling into a sitting position. He thinks he can ping Goodnight’s accent as stemming from somewhere down south, but truth be told he’s more interested in focusing on the food than on the man who appears to have brought it in. He feels like he hasn’t eaten in days.

“Easy now,” Goodnight chides him, pushing out of his seat and crossing the short distance to the bed. “I didn’t bring that for you to overexert yourself trying to get to it.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left it so far away,” Faraday grumbles. He may not have a werewolf’s sense of smell, but he has enough of one for his mouth to start watering from the scents he’s getting off the meal. “I don’t remember when I last ate.”

“Well, you’ve been out for quite a while,” Goodnight agrees. “Here, let me help you.”

Together they get Faraday up and propped back against a bunch of pillows, the supper tray now in front of him and within reach. “You might want to take it slow,” Goodnight says as he watches Faraday dip his spoon into the bowl.

“I don’t have a choice,” Faraday mutters, annoyed. “Sarassa’s needlepoint is the only thing holdin’ me together these days, and every time I move wrong it all goes to hell.”

“Well then, I’m going to suggest you don’t move wrong.”

Bringing the spoon to his mouth, Faraday rolls his eyes. “You sound like Alejandro. Where is he, anyway? I’m surprised he’s not lurkin’ around bein’ a fussy brat again.” Finally getting the spoon where he wants it, he blows on the soup just enough to cool it down and then takes it into his mouth. If he moans a little as the rich, hearty flavor hits his tongue, Goodnight’s kind enough not to comment and chooses to answer Faraday’s question instead.

“Vasquez? Last I saw him he was heading out to the barn to help Sam with some of the work we’ve been putting off to deal with everything that’s gone down recently.” There’s a slight pause in the end of that sentence, almost like Goodnight was going to mention Bogue by name and then had decided against it.

For his part, Faraday takes another spoonful of soup rather than push. “Guess I can’t fault you folks for that,” he says once he’s swallowed it down.

Part of him, a large part of him, had been expecting Alejandro to be here with him. Even worse, the same part of him had been hoping for it as well.

As if he can read Faraday’s mind, Goodnight awkwardly clears his throat and says, “We figured it’d be best if the whole pack helped out when possible. That way you won’t be stuck with only one person for company while you’re trying to heal. It’ll spice things up a little.”

Translation: Alejandro doesn’t want to be the only one babysitting him. Goodnight can dress it up as pretty as he pleased, but his real meaning is as plain as the nose on his face. That was fine, though. Hell, it would probably be easier if he minimized the amount of time he spent in Alejandro’s company. There’d be less chance of him letting slip something pathetic and needy that way.

He flashes Goodnight his best grin around the utensil in his mouth. “Well, I’m glad of the company,” he says, and doesn’t miss the way the man gives him a relieved smile.

*****

If Faraday had thought Goodnight was exaggerating when he said the entire pack was planning to help him through his recovery, he is sorely mistaken. Some of them fall into something of a routine – Goodnight for instance seems to like bringing him food (usually, but not always with Billy lurking at his side), and Sam likes to sit up and keep him company in the evenings – but most of the others just pop in whenever they please.

Case in point, Faraday’s sitting up in bed one afternoon a little while into his stay, propped up against half a dozen pillows and poking despondently at some game on his phone, when Teddy wanders into the room without so much as a hello and flops dramatically down on the foot of the bed. Faraday watches him for a few seconds, wondering if he’s going to do anything interesting, and then glances over at where Red is leaning against the doorframe, looking only a little less annoyed than Teddy does.

“Do I even want to know?” He asks when neither of the young weres seem inclined to tell him what they’re after.

“We’re _bored_ ,” Teddy mumbles into the bedcovers, kicking his feet for emphasis.

“He’s bored,” Red corrects, “and I’m stuck listening to him complain about it because everyone else is working and they won’t let him stay here by himself.”

“Huh,” Faraday says, dropping his phone somewhere in the bedding and not really caring about it. “I can relate to that. The bein’ bored part, that is. I haven’t left this bed except to go to the bathroom since I got here.”

Red frowns and makes a commiserating noise, while Teddy lets out a low grown and kicks his feet again. “How can you live like that?” He asks with all the righteous indignation of preteens everywhere.

Faraday shrugs, trying to look nonchalant even though in reality his sanity is starting to hold on by an increasingly fraying thread. “Well, I don’t have much choice. I’m not exactly mobile right now. I can’t walk much more than a few feet before I get winded, and stairs are pretty much my arch nemesis these days. The one trip I took along the driveway nearly did me in. Still, I wouldn’t mind a change of pace.”

For some reason, this makes Red perk up. “We can help you with that.” He says, looking more excited than Faraday is used to seeing him.

“We can?” Teddy asks. He finally lifts his head up from where he’s still lying face-planted into the blankets and gives Red a confused look. “How?”

Red shrugs and straightens so he’s no longer propping himself up on the doorframe. “Vasquez got him up the stairs. Between the two of us we can get him down them.”

“And do what?” Teddy asks, frowning. “We can’t take him anywhere, and Vasquez’ll kill us just for trying.”

“We can take him outside,” Red says, “give him some different scenery to look at. And who cares what Vasquez thinks? He’s been weird for weeks now.”

Faraday could do without their talking about him like he’s not right in front of them, but he’s too excited by the prospect of them helping him stage a jailbreak – even if it’s only a temporary one – to chastise them. He lightly kicks out at Teddy through the blankets covering his lower body. “Kid, if you get me out of this room for so much as five minutes I will owe you my firstborn.”

Teddy wrinkles his nose. “What would I do with that?”

“It’s an expression, idiot.” Red scoffs as he comes into the room proper. “Come on; let’s get him out of here.”

Teddy still looks dubious, but Faraday’s an adult and Red’s well on his way there no matter how much he may occasionally seem otherwise and that’s hopefully enough to get the youngest were onboard.

“C’mon, Teddy,” Faraday wheedles, not above begging if it’ll get him even the briefest amount of much needed freedom. “I’m goin’ out of my mind here, and I know you can relate. You just said how much you don’t like bein’ bored.”

Teddy gives him a long look. “Will you tell the others it was your idea if they get mad?”

“I will one hundred percent do that,” Faraday promises, and he means it. He’s not about to let the youngsters get in trouble for doing him a favor. “You gonna help me?”

Nodding, Teddy clambers to his feet and turns to look at Red. “You do know we’re dead if we drop him, right? No matter how much he tells them it was his idea.”

“So then we don’t drop him.” Red replies, and Faraday nods his head in agreement with this plan. He doesn’t much want them to drop him either.

He’s able to get to his feet under his own power, and he doesn’t need their help when he first starts walking, although he’d be lying if he said he was going all that fast. However, it’s once he hits the stairs that he runs into trouble.

“Alright,” he says, gripping the banister tightly. He’s already starting to feel winded, but he’s not going to let that stop him. If he doesn’t get something to look at that isn’t the four walls of Alejandro’s bedroom or the bathroom, he will not be held responsible for his actions. “You two are not to make fun of me over how long it takes me to get down these stairs, are we clear on that?”

Red gives him a look that suggests he’s not making any promises, but Teddy at least nods his head in acquiescence. Faraday’s going to take what he can get.

It takes him an embarrassingly long time to get down the set of stairs even with Red and Teddy’s help, and he’s noticeably short of breath by the time he’s done. Surprisingly, neither of his companions say anything, but he doesn’t miss the way they stick close to him until they’re satisfied he can get moving again.

“Should we take him out front or out back?” Teddy asks peering up at Red.

“Okay, first off, please stop talkin’ about me like I’m not right in front of you.” Faraday holds the kid’s gaze until he gets a nod of agreement, and then continues on. “Second of all, which is less likely to get us spotted by the rest of the pack?”

“Out front,” Red supplies. “They’re all working in either the fields or the barn and you can see both of those from the back if you try hard enough.”

“Then out front we will go,” Faraday decides. “Always pick the avenue that’s less likely to get you caught when you’re breakin’ the rules boys.”

Red and Teddy share a look like they’re not sure they should be listening to this kind of advice, but neither of them voices a protest.

Faraday’s never cared much one way or the other about the outdoors, but after however many days trapped in the stifling walls of Alejandro’s bedroom, not to mention a week stuck in the hospital before that, the pack’s front yard is one of the nicest sights he’s seen in a very long time. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that it’s a beautiful day out, one definitely worth enjoying if given the opportunity.

He settles into the porch swing that the pack seems to adore as a collective whole, relaxing back against the cushions with a contented sigh. Never mind that it’d taken him more effort than it should have to get out here, it was worth it. He waves a hand at Red and Teddy, “You two,” he says fervently, “are my favorites.”

The two were share a look that Faraday can’t figure out, and then give him an identical set of shrugs. Faraday finds that funnier than he should and doesn’t quite manage to hold back a snicker.

“Now what?” Teddy asks. “We got you out here. Did you want to do something?”

“I don’t have it in me to do much,” Faraday replies. “As far as I’m concerned it’s up to you two to entertain me.”

Teddy makes an unimpressed face, but Red nudges him insistently.

“Go get one of your Frisbees,” the older were says.

“But there’s no one around to throw it.” Teddy protests.

“I will,” Red says, and Faraday figures from the gobsmacked expression on Teddy’s face this must be a rare occurrence. “Seriously, go find one.”

“He’s got them stashed all over the place,” Red explains as Teddy lets out an excited whoop and jumps down off the porch. “I don’t like them much, but some of the others will play if they’re in the right mood. Vasquez and Emma can both do tricks with them. Billy too, but he’s less likely to do that.”

That doesn’t surprise Faraday much where Billy’s concerned. He’s about to say so when the sound of muffled yipping reaches his ears, and Teddy comes around the corner, fully shifted and with a dark blue disk clamped between his teeth.

He drops it at Red’s feet, who picks it up and makes a face at the drool already adorning it. Red turns and gives Faraday a look. “You’re sure you don’t want to do this?”

Faraday grins back at him. “Ignoring the fact that I would definitely tear my stitches if I tried, I distinctly remember you makin’ poor Teddy here a promise.”

For his part, Teddy lets out a firm bark in agreement.

Red sighs. “Fine. I’m never going to hear the end of this, though. He’s going to try and make me do it for him all the time now.”

Leaning back in his seat, Faraday flashes a tired grin. “At least one of you will be havin’ fun.”

Letting out an annoyed huff, Red whips his arm back with little to no warning and sends the Frisbee soaring across the yard, Teddy darting after it, barking shrilly. From his position on the swing, Faraday can see it when Teddy leaves his feet and snags the toy out of midair, hitting the ground heavily on all fours and then spinning around as he comes racing back over the grass, tail wagging furiously behind him.

Faraday chuckles, still revelling in his newfound freedom. “Dare I ask how long he’s goin’ to keep this up for?”

Snorting, Red leans down and wrestles the disc away from Teddy, frowning at it in distaste when his hand brushes through a patch of slobber. “I’ll quit long before he does.” He gestures at Faraday with the hand still holding the toy. “I hope you know, as soon as you’re strong enough to do this, you’ve got no choice. You owe me for helping you escape.”

Faraday waves his left hand – the one less likely to result in pulling a bunch of stitches. “I’ll take my chances,” he says dismissively.

Red gives him a long look, only breaking eye contact when Teddy barks again to get his attention. Sighing, he pulls his arm back as the younger were wriggles in anticipation. “I regret this already,” he says mournfully, right before he lets the toy fly a second time.

As Red had predicted, he gives up on the game way before Teddy is willing to, finally reaching the point where he simply refuses to pick the Frisbee up again after it’s dropped at his feet for the umpteenth time. “No more,” he says firmly, unbothered by Teddy’s frustrated yapping at the cessation of his enjoyment.

For his part, Faraday, who’d been on the brink of slipping into a light doze in the afternoon sun, huffs out an irritated breath. “Why always with the barkin’, kid? Didn’t anyone ever tell you it gets old fast?”

“He’s good at being annoying,” Red says bluntly, nudging at Teddy with his foot when the youngster tries to head butt him in the thigh. “Well, you are. Hey!” This last word is snarled out after Teddy snaps at his leg, his teeth just barely grazing the flesh there. “Brat!”

Faraday considers telling them not to fight, but it’s not really his business when you get down to it and he’s not fast enough anyway. By the time he’s made a decision, Red has already shucked his shorts onto the deck and is now a dark-furred streak bolting across the lawn after a howling Teddy.

“Kids are so fuckin’ weird,” Faraday decides as he settles back against the cushions of the porch swing. With the two of them occupied, he wagers he can get back to the nap he’d been heading for.

He must succeed because the next thing he knows, Alejandro is looming over him with a look of barely banked fury twisting his features.

“Um,” says Faraday, blinking his eyes in confusion. “Why do you look mad?”

Alejandro’s nostrils flare as he continues to glare down at Faraday. “What are you doing down here?” He demands, each word coming out flat and tight, like he’s punching them out one after the other in a series of explosive bursts.

Faraday blinks again and makes a show of looking around. “Well,” he says slowly, “I was nappin’, but now I appear to be gettin’ yelled at, possibly for the aforesaid mentioned nappin’, but I’m not sure about that yet. What’re you doin’?”

“You,” Alejandro says darkly, “are not supposed to be out of bed. Imagine my surprise when I went to look in on you and found nobody home.”

“Ohh,” Faraday says, the lightbulb finally going off in his sleep-addled brain. “That’s what you’re all up in arms about. Of course.”

He struggles into a sitting position, mindful of the way the movements cause his still healing wounds to twinge, and does his best to look innocent. “I was goin’ stir crazy up in that bedroom, so I figured a change of scenery would help.”

“Joshua, you are being held together by so many pieces of thread right now,” Alejandro says, pinching the bridge of his nose and then casting his eyes heavenward as if someone up above might see fit to help him deal with Faraday. “You are not able to handle changes of scenery.”

Partly to be contrary, Faraday makes a show of looking around his current surroundings, noting as he does so that Red and Teddy appear to have vanished, which is a probably a good move on their part, and he resolves to hold up his end of their deal and try to avoid getting them in trouble. “I hate to break it to you, big guy, but I appear to have handled it fine.”

Alejandro makes a noise that Faraday can’t begin to describe, except to say that it doesn’t sound impressed. “Joshua,” he starts again, and Faraday waves a hand to cut him off.

“Alejandro, please,” he says quietly, hoping that a serious tone might help. “I can’t spend the next however many weeks with nothing but the walls of that room to stare at. I will go out of my goddamned mind.”

“You are not going to heal if you strain yourself,” Alejandro insists, albeit not quite as forcefully as he has been for the rest of this conversation.

Sensing a potential victory, Faraday bites back a grin. “I’m not goin’ to try and run a marathon or anythin’, I promise. I know my limits.”

“No, you do not,” Alejandro says, giving Faraday an incredulous look. “You are the exact opposite of a person who knows their limits. People who know their limits do not take on entire rooms full of killers all alone.”

Not for the first time, Faraday thinks he really needs to stop giving Alejandro an excuse to bring up the firefight as ammunition in an argument. “Fine, fair point,” he agrees, aiming to be conciliatory on the off chance that might help. “But in this particular instance I know my limits, I promise.”

He holds Alejandro’s gaze until the other man huffs out a sigh, signalling his willingness to back down at least for now. “Fine,” he says, and if he doesn’t exactly sound mollified at least he doesn’t sound angry anymore either. “However, you’ve experienced enough freedom for one day. You are going back upstairs now.”

Faraday would dearly love to protest this, mainly just on principle, but he is tired. Plus, even the most reckless of gamblers knows when not to press his luck, and he’s facing that particular situation right now. Therefore, with only minimal poor grace, he extends his right arm and holds it out to Alejandro expectantly, hoping he’s not pushing his luck too much when all he gets is a confused frown in response.

“You’re the one who’s sayin’ I have to go back to bed,” he points out, waggling his fingers in Alejandro’s face. “I’m willin’ to be gracious and go, but you’re goin’ to have to help me get there.”

The confused look vanishes and is replaced by one that Faraday thinks of as irritated comprehension. “You did not get down here on your own,” Alejandro says, and it’s not a question.

Caught out, Faraday winces. “I got down here mostly on my own?” He tries. “I only needed a bit of help with the stairs, honest.”

“I should have known.” Alejandro punctuates this statement with a snort as he reaches out to take Faraday’s hand and help him up.

Faraday figures he should probably feel a bit guilty about taking advantage of Alejandro’s willingness to help him, but he’s got maybe a few weeks left at best where he can do so and he’s not a good enough man to keep from milking it for all he’s worth.

“Who helped you?”

“Hmm?” Faraday asks, his thoughts drawn back to the present to where he’s letting Alejandro get him on his feet and tuck his hand into the crook of his elbow. “What did you say?”

“I asked you who helped you since you couldn’t manage it by yourself.”

“Oh.” Faraday shrugs and manfully resists the urge to lean into Alejandro’s warmth. He can only risk so much, and he’s most assuredly given up the right to try and get anything more. “Uhh, I don’t remember.”

Alejandro snorts. “So it was the brats, then. I don’t know why I bothered to ask.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Faraday says, determined to play dumb until the end. He pauses his already slow pace for a moment as Alejandro pulls open the front door, and then lets himself be ushered inside. “Honestly, it’s probably the painkillers makin’ me forgetful.”

“You’re all but done with the medications, guero.” Alejandro points out reasonably. “Don’t lie.”

Faraday pouts. “Y’know, you’re makin’ it awful hard for me to play dumb right now, you realize that?”

Alejandro flashes him a small grin. “Si, that’s the whole point.”

“Ugh,” Faraday sighs. “Whatever. Don’t you be yellin’ at those kids for doin’ me a favour, though. They just wanted to help.”

“They just wanted to stir up trouble and be a pair of irritants is more like it,” Alejandro replies. “But, fine, I will let it go.”

Faraday breathes a sigh of relief. “Thanks.”

*****

Vasquez gets used to poking his head into Joshua’s room and finding that the man has taken himself off to other parts of the house. Nothing quite gives him the heart-in-his-throat feeling of panic like that first time had – although the instance when Emma takes him with her to the grocery store is a close thing, and Billy can stop snickering about that any day now for the record – but he still doesn’t like it as he remains convinced that Joshua’s going to overexert himself and set back his recovery.

“Oh, please,” Goodnight says one night when Vasquez brings this up while they’re both standing at the kitchen counter working together to prepare supper for tomorrow. “The boy’s bouncing back so fast I’m starting to wonder if he’s really human after all. You, my friend, are just a worrisome combination of paranoid and overprotective.”

“I am not,” Vasquez growls. He grabs a green pepper from the stack near Goodnight’s elbow and begins slicing it with perhaps less regard for his own safety than he should. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, amigo.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Goodnight shoots back. “To be perfectly honest, you remind me of me whenever Billy gets himself into a scrape.”

Vasquez very nearly takes off the tip of his pointer finger with a mistimed slice. He takes a minute to make sure he hasn’t done precisely that, and then turns to look at Goodnight. “I am nothing like you.”

Goodnight snorts, the sound remarkably harsh considering it’s coming from one of their most amicable pack members. “You’re not a very good liar, Vasquez. At least not where this is concerned.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Vasquez replies. Focusing back on the food in his hands, he grabs another pepper and begins slicing it into pieces like its previous fellow.

Goodnight makes a dismissive sound in the back of his throat. “Avoidance is a terribly poor coping mechanism, my friend. Trust me, I would know.”

“Not avoiding anything.” Vasquez grunts.

“Yes, you are. You’re avoiding telling poor Joshua that you still have feelings for him.”

It’s sheer dumb luck that Vasquez isn’t mid-swipe when Goodnight makes this declaration, otherwise he imagines he’d have sliced his entire damned hand open. As it is, he barely manages to keep himself under control. “I don’t …”

“Know what I’m talking about, yes, yes.” Out of the corner of his eye, Vasquez sees Goodnight wave one hand lazily in the air, his lack of belief in Vasquez’s claim made all the more evident by the gesture. “Honestly, how much longer are we going to have to watch you play this game? Your feelings for him haven’t changed with everything that’s happened. If anything they’ve gotten stronger.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Vasquez snaps, finally losing his cool in the face of Goodnight’s persistence. He lays the knife he’s still clutching down on the countertop before he can do any damage with it. “Fine, I’ll admit it. I still have feelings for him. I still _want_ him. Who cares? It’s not like it matters at this point!”

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Goodnight asks, sounding flabbergasted. “It’s not like it matters? Vasquez, the man risked his damn life to prove how sorry he was for everything that happened.”

“Exactly!” Vasquez barks, oddly glad that at least one other person has realized that. Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, he slams his hands down on the counter, hard enough that most of the things they’ve been cutting up for the meal rattle. He takes a deep breath and then another and then another. Repeating the process until he’s finally certain he has himself back under control, he shifts around to face Goodnight.

The older were is watching him with no small measure of concern, but for once he remains quiet until Vasquez can bring himself to speak. “Joshua almost died because of me. Because I made him think he owed it to me to prove that he wasn’t what I accused him of being. How can I possibly ask him for anything after that?”

“What if it’s what he wants?” Goodnight asks.

Vasquez snorts. “No one in their right mind wants the person who almost gets them killed.”

Now Goodnight sighs. “Vasquez, you’re assuming he blames you for something when you don’t even know it to be the case. From what I’ve seen, Joshua’s done nothing to indicate he blames anyone other than Bogue and possibly himself for what happened. Shouldn’t you take the time to ascertain how he feels rather than going on to suffer in silence indefinitely?”

“I don’t have the right,” Vasquez says quietly.

“Funny thing,” Goodnight replies, “from what I’ve seen of Joshua, I’d put solid money on him saying the same thing about himself.”

Throwing up his hands, Vasquez backs away from the counter. “I can’t talk about this right now, leave it be, please.”

“If you insist. Although,” and here Goodnight pauses to scratch thoughtfully at his jaw, “now mind you, I’m just saying this as a piece of friendly advice, but you should seriously consider telling him what you want. I personally think he’ll be amendable to the idea, but what I’m not certain of is whether or not he’ll ever have the nerve to bring it up himself. That’s just a thought, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” Vasquez mimics. He’s officially one hundred percent done with this conversation. “Thank you for the – what do you call it? – pep talk, Goodnight. I’ll be sure to keep it in mind.”

Goodnight rolls his eyes as Vasquez backs out of the room. “You could as least show me the common curtesy of not lying to my face, you lanky reprobate!”

Vasquez doesn’t feel the slightest bit ashamed about flipping him off as he leaves.

There’s noise coming from the living room as he walks past, and it’s enough to draw his attention until he peers inside to see who’s downstairs.

Emma’s sitting in the overstuffed armchair that Sam usually favors, idly making her way through a book in her lap, and looking up every so often to glance at her other companions in the room. There’s a fond smile tugging at her lips, one that he can’t tell if she’s aware she’s revealing or not.

Sitting back on the couch with his bad leg propped up in front of him on the coffee table, while the other is resting on the floor and occasionally making strange sweeping motions, is Joshua. He has the remote in one hand, and, more noticeably, Red sprawled out next to him in wolf form. As Vasquez watches, Red pushes his muzzle into Joshua’s thigh, not stopping until the man breathes out a laugh and buries the fingers of his free hand in the thick ruff of his fur, occasionally moving it upwards to scratch at pointed ears.

“Evening, Vas,” Emma says when she spots him, and Joshua looks over from his spot in the room, craning his neck until he can see Vasquez and offer him a small smile. “You just about done with Goodnight then?”

“I got kicked out,” Vasquez lies, unwilling to tell anyone his real reason for leaving the kitchen. “Goody’s in a snit over properly diced vegetables again. What are you watching?” He asks then. He can tell Emma didn’t believe his previous words, and he doesn’t want her asking questions, especially not where Joshua can hear them.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Joshua admits. “Either of you boys know?” He glances around slightly, and it’s only now that Vasquez realizes that along with Red, Teddy’s lying on the floor at the man’s feet.

“Neither of them is in the right shape to answer your question, guero.” Vasquez points out.

Joshua shrugs nonchalantly, and holds the remote in his hand out in Vasquez’s direction. “Fair enough. Did you want to pick somethin’?”

Vasquez doesn’t miss it when Emma smirks behind the semi-cover of her book, and he can’t help the way his conversation with Goodnight is still rattling around in his head. Cursing himself for being multiple kinds of pathetic, he ignores the offered remote but makes his way into the living room anyway.

“You pick,” he says, and settles himself down in the nearest free seat.

“Sure thing,” Joshua agrees. “And once I’ve done that, I’ll tell you all about how I got down here entirely under my own power. You’re goin’ to be so proud, it’s quite the story.”

“Oh, yes,” Emma deadpans from her spot. “We were all amazed. The way you just walked down those stairs. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Sniffing, Joshua points the remote at the television and brings up the guide to begin scrolling through it, ignoring Emma all the while, and looking entirely content with his lot in life.

*****

There’s a car Vasquez doesn’t recognize in the driveway. He’s been out jogging to try and burn off some excess energy, and he spots it as he takes the last few strides up the path. Confused, he heads for the house in search of someone with an explanation.

Sam’s in the living room when he comes in, idly paging through some novel or other, possibly one of Emma’s, with his feet propped up on the coffee table and a relaxed slouch to his posture. He looks up when Vasquez clears his throat, and gives him a small smile. “Afternoon,” he says, “Did you enjoy your run?”

“Si,” Vasquez replies. “It was fine. Do we have company?”

Sam’s smile stretches into something more akin to a smirk. “We do. Sarassa’s upstairs giving Faraday a once over to see how he’s doing. From what I heard while I was in there, it sounds like it’s all good news.”

It should be, Vasquez thinks. Joshua’s been getting noticeably stronger by the day, to the point that Vasquez can’t quite remember the last time he needed someone’s help getting around. Honestly, Vasquez is running out of time to steel himself and decide if he wants to make a move like everyone keeps telling him to.

Across the room, Sam gives him a knowing look, one that Vasquez suspects means the older man knows exactly what he’s thinking. “You should probably go see how things are going,” he says, as if he’s determined to give more evidence to Vasquez’s internal monologue. Message deliverd, he tucks himself back into his book and falls silent.

Vasquez gives him a considering look and then shrugs. He does want to know what the verdict is, no matter what, the fact that Sam is looking at him like he can see right through him doesn’t change that. All he says though, is, “I think I will,” and then he leaves.

He lopes easily up the stairs, heading for his room, and is surprised to find only Joshua and Sarassa inside. These days it seems like Joshua can’t go anywhere without Red or Teddy dogging his heels.

Joshua gives him a smile of recognition when he pushes the door open a little further, but otherwise doesn’t comment, as he’s too busy listening to whatever Sarassa’s saying to him.

“How is he?” Vasquez asks, and Sarassa jumps in surprise, spinning around in her seat and giving him a glare that could blister the paint off a car.

“Don’t you know better than to startle an old woman like that? I’m sixty nine years old, Vasquez. That’s a prime age for a heart attack!”

Safely behind her Joshua rolls his eyes, and Vasquez has to fight back a smile. “Apologies, Sarassa,” he says instead. “I won’t do it again.”

She sniffs. “See that you don’t. And as for your question,” here she turns back to Joshua and there’s no mistaking the warmth in her expression, “our young man here officially has a clean bill of health. The leg’s probably going to pain him off and on for the rest of his life and the scars might ache some with the cold, but other than that he’s made a full recovery.”

Joshua stretches out the leg in question and rubs a hand over the spot Vasquez knows the bullet scar to be. “All things considered, I think I’m gettin’ off easy,” he says with a philosophical shrug. “I sure as shit didn’t think I was makin’ it out of that mess alive when it was goin’ down, let me tell you.”

Completely unbidden, a vision of Joshua as he’d found him, shot to hell and bleeding out, flashes before Vasquez’s eyes, and he has to swallow down against a sudden taste of bile rising in his throat. That image has been enough to fuel his nightmares ever since it happened, and he doesn’t need to be thinking about it now. Joshua’s fine, more than fine if the way he’s smiling up at Vasquez is any indication, and that’s only going to change if he does something stupid again.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Vasquez says, and tries not to blush when Joshua’s answering smile sends his stomach fluttering. He sternly tells himself now is not the time – though he knows he’s running out of that. Still, he can’t say anything while Sarassa is sitting here as an audience. Plus, he needs to figure out _what_ to say.

While he’s still pondering his options, Sarassa chooses this moment to vacate her seat. She claps a hand on Joshua’s shoulder for a second and then fondly ruffles his hair, laughing when he lets out an indignant squawk and tries to squirm away from her. “You,” she says with another laugh, catching his chin between thumb and forefinger and shaking him gently, “have been one of the most concerning patients I’ve had in a long time, but I’m happy with how things have gone for you. Do me a favour though, and stay away from firefights.”

Joshua pulls free of her grasp, but there’s no hiding the pleased look on his face. “I’ll do my best,” he promises. “Thanks for, well, everythin’, really. I owe you more than I can say.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” comes the quiet reassurance. “It was my pleasure, Joshua.” Sarassa’s hand darts out again for another run through his hair, her trailing fingers making the auburn curls stick up all over the place, and then she’s turning away and heading towards Vasquez.

“Alejandro,” she says with a nod, dropping her voice to a register that his ears can pick up but Joshua’s can’t. “You’d better tell him soon, boy. Or else he’s going to run.”

Vasquez feels his shoulders stiffen at her words, but before he can come up with a response, she’s giving him a quick pat on the arm and marching out into the hallway. He almost goes after her, deciding against it in the end only because it might look suspicious.

Instead, he looks at where Joshua’s still sitting on the bed, Vasquez’s bed, and wonders what the other man is thinking. “Penny for your thoughts, guero?” He asks when Joshua continues to remain silent.

“Hmm? Oh,” Joshua gives himself a little shake, focusing back in on the present. “I was just lettin’ the news sink in, I guess.” He stretches his bad leg out in front of him, flexing it carefully. “I think part of me wasn’t expectin’ to recover.”

“Well, I don’t see why,” Vasquez says, deliberately keeping his tone light. “I specifically told you you were going to be fine the first day you woke up in the hospital.”

“And if you had a medical degree, I might have been more inclined to believe you.” Joshua laughs. “As it happens, however, you’re nothing but an incredibly stubborn werewolf.”

“It’s not being stubborn when you know you’re right,” Vasquez insists, smiling when Joshua laughs again.

“Sure, big guy, whatever helps you sleep at night.” Joshua leans back on the bed, resting both his hands on the mattress as he cocks his head at Vasquez. “Anyway, did you need somethin’, or were you just bein’ nosy because you heard Sarassa was here?”

Vasquez starts to say he’d just wanted to know what Sarassa had to say, but he stops. He’s been trying to avoid lying to people lately, and the honest answer to Joshua’s question is that he’d both wanted something and wanted to know Sarassa’s verdict on his health. More importantly, it’s high time he come clean about what he’s after, what he’s wanted ever since Joshua had shaken him awake in a hospital room.

Sarassa’s right, hell, everyone who’s been on his case about this is right. There’s no way he and Joshua are going to have anything if the damn topic never gets brought up. Either one of them has to say something, or they’re going to be stuck in limbo forever. Vasquez might not believe he deserves anything after all that’s happened, but getting a final answer will have to be better than what he’s dealing with now.

Deciding this is as good a time as any, Vasquez opens his mouth, all while wishing he’d thought to prepare a speech of some kind, and then immediately clamps his hands over his ears as a shrill wailing sounds throughout the house.

“What the hell?” Joshua demands, darting to his feet. Somewhere in the distance someone in wolf form lets out a howl that only adds to the din. “What the fuck is that?”

Vasquez isn’t positive, but he has a good guess. His hands still over his ears to try and block out the worst of the noise, he ducks out into the hallway and starts pounding down the stairs with Joshua on his heels.

He almost slams into Sam and Emma who are both coming in from the living room, and they move as one towards the kitchen where the worst of the noise is coming from. Once there, he’s greeted with the sight of Goodnight flapping a hand towel at the fan above the stove, while Billy sits at the table, seemingly oblivious to the ruckus his partner is causing.

“Oh, for hell’s sake, Goody,” Emma barks, her own hands over her ears as she watches the mess going on in front of her. “You said it yourself how you have to watch that thing!”

“Emma, dear, please don’t quote me at me,” Goodnight snaps. “I am all too aware that I should have been keeping a closer eye on it. My apologies for causing such a disturbance.”

Eventually Goodnight’s flapping disperses the smoke enough that the alarm shuts off. Vasquez tentatively removes his hands from his ears, not missing the way Sam and Emma are doing the same thing, and then turns to see what Joshua’s up to only to find the man halfway back up the stairs.

Vasquez considers going after him, but figures the moment has been ruined. As such, he shoots Goodnight a glare, one that makes the older man raise his eyebrows in confusion, and stomps across the kitchen to the door to the backyard.

No one tries to stop him, though whether or not that has anything to do with his suddenly souring mood he can’t say, and he starts shrugging out of his clothes as soon as he crosses the threshold of the doorway. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone now, and the best way to ensure that is to take on a shape with the wrong kind of vocal cords.

He hits the deck on all fours, front paws thumping heavily on the wood, and wanders over to a patch of fading sunlight. It’s heading towards evening and that seems like as good a reason as any to settle in for a nap. Flopping down, he curls up into a ball and huffs out a sigh that would only be considered pathetic if anyone had been around to hear it. He’ll talk to Joshua later, preferably without outside interference.

*****

“What’re you doing?’

Pausing in the middle of his current task, Faraday glances up at where Red is standing in the doorway to his room, sporting an unimpressed frown on his face. Faraday blinks at him and then looks down at the half-filled duffle bag resting in front of him on the bed. “I’d think that was fairly obvious,” he says after the silence has stretched on between them for longer than is comfortable. “I’m packing.”

“Well I can see _that_ ,” Red grumbles, sounding for once in his life like the kid he still is as heart. “ _Why_ are you packing?”

“I’d think that was fairly obvious too. I’m leavin’, kid.” With Dr. Attiyah’s clean bill of health he has officially run out of excuses to keep sticking around, and it’s a far wiser move for him to move on sooner rather than later. Otherwise he’s bound to drag it out even more than he already has and that was just asking for trouble. Better to leave now and get the hurt over quick, like ripping off a particularly massive band aid.

Red sputters. Faraday doesn’t think he’s ever seen him do that before, he hadn’t known he even could. “You can’t leave. You’re pack and pack means you stay.”

 _Oh nice, way to drive a knife right in there, kid_ , Faraday thinks but doesn’t say aloud. Red doesn’t know what he’s saying, doesn’t know he’s casing anyone any pain, and it’s not fair to make him feel guilty about it. That’s why Faraday takes a deep breath and forces himself to return to the task at hand, grabbing up a couple of t-shirts and stuffing them into his bag without taking care to prevent them from wrinkling.

“I’m not pack,” he tells the stack of clothing, refusing to look up and meet Red’s eyes. “I’m human.”

Red snorts, the sound coming out in a harsh counterpoint to Faraday’s much more subdued tone. “Matthew was human. That didn’t stop him from being part of a pack.”

Faraday does look up at that. He blinks, startled. “Matthew was human?” He hadn’t known that, although he'd known that sometimes happened, here he’d just assumed all along that Matthew had been as much of a wolf as the rest of the others, even though he’d never met the man.

“Yes,” Red tells him, rolling his eyes like he thinks Faraday is thick in the head. “Packs have human members all the time. It’s more weird that you’re the only one we have than it is that we have you at all.”

And there he went again, twisting that knife with all the innocent fervor of a kid who didn’t know how the real world worked. “I’m not pack, Red.” This time when Faraday says it he tries to make it sounds as firm as possible. “Pack means – means family and shit like that. I ain’t had one of those in longer than I care to remember.”

Now it’s Red’s turn to look confused. “I know what pack means, idiot. That was my point. You’re pack. Family. Call it whatever you want, it’s all the same thing.”

“Fuck, Red.” Faraday pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger and sternly tells himself that Red doesn’t know what he’s saying. “That’s – I mean that’s nice of you to say and all, but you’re wrong. I don’t belong here and I can’t keep kidding myself that I do because it’s really fuckin’ startin’ to suck.”

Red stares at him, clearly not comprehending what Faraday is trying to say. “You’re an idiot,” he says again, making an exasperated face in Faraday’s direction. “Of course you belong here. If you didn’t then you wouldn’t _be_ here.”

Now it’s Faraday’s turn to snort. “Kid, I’m here on what basically amounts to the kindness of strangers. Don’t get me wrong, I ain’t sayin’ it’s not a kindness I don’t appreciate,” he adds, holding up a hand to forestall any more protests on Red’s part. “Trust me when I say you lot helped me out of a real bind, but I figure it’s time I take off before I’ve worn out my welcome. You know?”

“No, I don’t know,” Red snaps, and Faraday’s taken aback by the obvious anger behind the normally taciturn were’s words. “Why are you being so stupid?”

“Kid. _Red_.” Faraday starts, only to get cut off with a wave of a hand and a snap of teeth that he could never hope to replicate.

“ _No_.” Red says tightly. “You don’t get to talk again until you start making sense.”

Throwing his hands up in exasperation, Faraday tries to stare Red down for a few seconds before giving it up as a lost cause and crossing his arms over his chest instead. Since Red still hasn’t told him he’s allowed to speak, he raises an eyebrow at the were as well, inviting him to make his point. When nothing is forthcoming, Faraday lets out a scoffing sound. “For the record, kid, if you tell me I’m not allowed to talk until you’re done, that’s generally a time for you to make your goddamned point.”

More seconds tick by as Red chews on his bottom lip, clearly deep in thought. Faraday’s just about to start snapping at him when he clears his throat a little raggedly and says, “I like you. Teddy likes you and Jack likes you. Sam respects you and Emma does too. Goodnight thinks you need someone to mother you, and Billy doesn’t mean it at all anymore when he talks about eating you. You’re _ours_ Faraday, so you can’t just leave.”

There’s a thundering noise in Faraday’s ears that he’s pretty sure is just the sound of his own heartbeat strumming painfully in his chest. Yet even as he’s reeling from the torrent of words Red has thrown at him, he’s going to jump on the one, very important opinion of him that Red’s left out. Or at least he is until Red looks him dead in the eye and says with all the finesse of a man dropping a loaded missile onto a conversation, “Plus, Vasquez is in love with you. I mean, it’s gross, but he’ll hate it if you leave so you should maybe take that into consideration.”

The thundering abruptly shuts off and is replaced with nothing but white noise. Faraday can’t be sure, but he thinks he might be having a stroke, and he gapes at Red who stares coolly back at him, like he hasn’t just grabbed Faraday’s worldview by the throat and turned it rudely upside down.

Silence descends upon the room, but eventually one of them has to break and it looks like this time it’s going to have to be Faraday. Licking lips that have suddenly gone dry, he says, “Alejandro is _not_ in love with me.”

Red snorts, unmoved. “He lets you call him by his first name. Nobody else gets away with that, except Emma sometimes, and it should tell you something. Something obvious.” His face wrinkles momentarily before smoothing out into an expression of understanding. “Wait. Is that the problem? Are you leaving because you think he doesn’t want you?”

“He doesn’t want me!” Faraday yelps, his voice going shrill as he tries to fathom a way out of this conversation. “He hasn’t said so much as a word about – about _anything_ since I woke up in that hospital room.”

Red makes the same face that anyone under the age of twenty five makes when confronted with someone they think is utterly out of touch with reality. “So you think he doesn’t want you, and he probably thinks you don’t want him. Honestly, you are both too stupid to live.”

Faraday is one hundred percent done with this conversation, and he says as much.

“Good,” Red replies, startling Faraday with his sudden onset of agreeability. “You should be talking to Vasquez instead of to me. He was napping out on the back porch the last time I saw him. Chances are good he’s still there.”

“I am not goin’ to go find him,” Faraday snaps. “Just leave it be, would you?”

Red narrows his eyes, suddenly looking dangerous. “I’m sorry, were you going to take off without saying anything?”

Faraday freezes, guilty. “I mean,” he says slowly. “Well, I don’t know really. I guess I didn’t put that much thought into it.”

For the entirety of this little chat, Red has been leaning up against the doorframe almost directly across from Faraday, but at this he comes stomping into the room with a distinctly unimpressed look on his face. Faraday’s a little nervous he’s about to come face to face with an angry wolf, but all Red does is sit down heavily on the bed and make a grab for the still half-filled duffle bag, hauling it out of Faraday’s reach and stuffing it behind his own back.

“You aren’t going anywhere until you at least talk to Vasquez. Maybe it won’t go so well, I don’t know, but I do know that if you leave without telling him he’s going to either follow you or mope around the house for the rest of forever and I refuse to deal with the fallout of either of those options. I’ll eat you myself before I let that happen.” He gives the duffle bag a firm pat and glares up at Faraday. “This is staying with me until you’re done. You can have it back once you’ve got everything sorted out.”

“Red …” Faraday starts to protest, only to receive another ominous glare. “Fine,” he barks, throwing up his hands. “Fine, kid. You win. I’ll go march my ass down there and let Alejandro tell me that he agrees it’s time for me to head out, or worse, that he thinks I should stay but he just wants to be friends. Damn, but won’t this be fun.”

Red wrinkles his nose in distaste. “You’re pathetic and it’s making me ill. Please go talk to him so I don’t have to listen to you any longer.”

“You wouldn’t have to listen to me at all if you hadn’t barged in here in the first place,” Faraday snaps, but he’s already halfway out of the room when he says it. As much as he doesn’t want to admit that Red has a point, he should really talk to Alejandro before he leaves, if for no other reason than to give himself the closure he’ll never get otherwise.

The only way to reach the back porch from inside the house is to go through the kitchen. Faraday manages not to run into anyone else as he makes his way downstairs, but the second he steps into the room in question he comes face to face with Goodnight, who’s sitting at the table and munching away on what appears to be a bowl of oatmeal, maybe he figured that was less dangerous than what he’d been cooking earlier. They both stare at each other for a moment, until the werewolf breaks the silence.

“Joshua,” he says politely, swirling his spoon around in the bowl. “Can I help you with something?”

Faraday grimaces. “Do you know if Alejandro is outside? Apparently I need to talk to him.”

Goodnight blinks, and as Faraday watches a small, smug smile starts to tug at the corner of his lips. “Do you now?” He asks, about as subtle as a slap to the face. “Dare I ask what about?”

“You can ask all you want, but I ain’t answerin’,” Faraday tells him. “Is he outside or not?”

Goodnight shrugs and glances back towards the door leading out of the house. “He was,” he says finally, “and I didn’t see him come back in so I’d imagine he’s still there.”

“Right. Great.” Faraday says, mentally steeling himself for what’s about to happen. He takes a heavy breath and lets it out slowly as he moves to cross the room and head outside.

Unexpectedly, Goodnight gets up out of his seat. He picks his snack bowl up in one hand, cradling it a little against his chest so as to prevent it from spilling and then claps his free hand down on Faraday’s shoulder. “Go get him, son.” He says, his smile more genuine now. “Come on, cher, let’s leave them to this one in peace, shall we?”

Startled, it takes Faraday a moment or two to realize that this last comment wasn’t met for him. There’s a snuffling sound from beneath the table and a dark-furred shape shuffles out from under it as Billy stands and stretches. He cocks his head in Faraday’s direction, almost as if to tell him it’s about damn time, and then slowly pads out of the room in Goodnight’s wake.

His face warm, Faraday watches until they’re gone and then returns to the much more difficult tasks of first getting a grip on himself and then putting one foot in front of the other. He hasn’t been this reluctant to walk somewhere since the bullet wound in his leg had been fresh.

Still, his Ma hadn’t raised a coward, and it wasn’t like Red was going to let him leave without seeing this through anyway. Therefore, he walks across the rest of the room and gently shoves the back door open, letting the light from the kitchen spill out into the night and onto the porch.

Red had been right about where to find Alejandro, but he’d forgotten to mention what shape he’d be in at the time. Faraday hasn’t seen Alejandro in wolf form – minus that brief, hazy glimpse of him as he’d gone for McCann’s throat – since that first night, back when it had all gone to hell, but he easily recognizes the large shape that’s curled up in a ball, sound asleep on the wooden deckboards.

“Shit,” Faraday murmurs, gently pulling the door closed behind him. He pads softly across the short distance between him and Alejandro’s sleeping form and drops lightly down into one of the many chairs littering the area. Propping his elbows up on his knees, he rests his chin in his hands and considers what to do next. He doesn’t want to disturb Alejandro, but he knows full well if he leaves now he’s not likely to get the nerve to have this conversation again, Red and his threats be damned.

 _Fuck it_ , he thinks, shifting so that he can reach down and bury one hand in the fur of Alejandro’s back. “Hey,” he says, ruffling it gently, as amazed as ever by how soft were coats tend to be, “Hey, Alejandro, wake up would you? I need to talk to you for a bit.”

Alejandro makes a groaning sound, clearly still half-asleep and annoyed by the notion of having his nap interrupted, and curls into an even tighter ball.

“For hell’s sake,” Faraday mutters, sternly telling himself he doesn’t find the werewolf’s antics endearing. He shoves a little harder. “Alejandro, wake. Up.”

Letting out an irritated growl that fails to do anything close to alarm Faraday, Alejandro comes awake with a start, unfurling out of the position he’s been holding and blinking up at Faraday in the dim light.

“Hey, big guy,” Faraday says lightly. “Mind if I chat with you for a bit?”

Alejandro blinks at him again, and Faraday has a sneaking suspicion that he’s only now coming fully awake as he shakes his head as if to clear it. A look of what Faraday thinks is recognition flashes across his features and he stands abruptly, the motion causing Faraday’s hand to fall from his back.

Faraday hopes that’s not a bad sign, but when Alejandro turns away from him and slinks a little ways down the porch; he can’t help but feel like it is.

Alejandro comes to a stop suddenly, and then turns back to look at Faraday. He yips sharply; jerking his head towards something that’s hanging over the side of the porch railing, something that Faraday belatedly realizes is a pair of pants.

“Oh,” Faraday says, surprised. None of the others have shown so much as a lick of concern when it comes to shifting and wandering around naked in front of him, but if Alejandro wants some privacy then Faraday’s happy to give it to him. “Of course,” he says, closing his eyes and twisting his body so he’s angled away from Alejandro. “Just let me know when you’re done.”

He hears the tell-tale signs of a werewolf shifting from one shape to another, sounds that he’s come to know better than ever over the past few weeks, followed by a noise he identifies as rustling fabric. There’s a sound that Faraday imagines is Alejandro tugging the pants on, followed by a quiet thump and muttered swearing.

“Alejandro?”

“I’m fine, guero,” Alejandro rasps. “Just tripped a little.”

“Smart. Can I open my eyes yet?”

“Oh, sorry. Si.”

Having received permission, Faraday cracks his eyes back open and looks over to where Alejandro’s reclining, fully human, with his back against the porch railing. His breath catches a little at the sight of him, like it has so many times before, and he wonders what happens now.

As he watches, Alejandro scratches slightly at the back of one denim-covered leg with the toes of a bare foot and cocks his head to look at him. “I thought you said you wanted to talk about something, guero?”

“Uh, yeah.” Faraday agrees, his mouth suddenly gone dry. He coughs a little to try and fix that. “Um, I thought I should tell you I’m takin’ off.”

Still scratching at the back of his leg, Alejandro doesn’t have much of a reaction to this news. “You’re going for a drive?” He asks.

Ah, not so much a lack of a reaction as a lack of understanding. Faraday clears his throat again. “No, I mean, I’m takin’ off for good. Sarassa says I’m back to bein’ fit as a fiddle again, so I figure it’s time for me to get out of here and let you folks get on with your lives.”

And that does get a reaction, albeit not a big one. Alejandro merely stops what he was doing so that he’s now standing with both feet planted firmly on the wooden slats of the porch. “Oh.” He says simply. “When?”

Faraday shrugs. “Honestly, I was in the middle of packin’ everything up when Red stuck his nose in and told me I should wait a bit, but I don’t see any point in drawin’ things out, you know? I reckon it’ll take me a few minutes to finish up with my stuff, a few more to say goodbye to everyone, and then I’ll be good to go within the hour.”

“Oh,” Alejandro says again, and Faraday can’t tell if it’s wishful thinking or not that’s making his voice sound hollow. “That’s soon.”

“I guess.” Faraday replies. He doesn’t say that it’s not soon enough, that it won’t be fast enough to ease the sting of tearing himself away from the closest place he’s had to a home since his mother died and left him on his own.

“So, is this my goodbye, then?” Alejandro asks.

“Looks like,” Faraday says, wishing he knew a better way to do this. After all they’ve been through together he feels like Alejandro deserves something more from him than a two bit goodbye and not much else.

“I see.” Faraday doesn’t think he’s imagining that Alejandro sounds displeased, but there are a number of things that could be causing said displeasure and there’s no guarantee that it’s the thought of having Faraday out of his life for good that’s doing it. “Where will you go?”

And wasn’t that the question for the ages. Faraday doesn’t have anywhere to go per se, nor does he have any idea how he’s going to support himself once he finds a place to settle down. “I can’t say as I’ve decided yet,” he replies, hoping that sounds better than ‘I have no fuckin’ clue what to do’. “I’m sure I’ll figure somethin’ out though. Maybe I’ll drop you a line when I get wherever it is I’m goin’.”

Alejandro laughs at that, but not with anything close to his usual vibrancy. “You’d better. Maybe I’ll even come out and visit someday.”

 _Sure, why not?_ Faraday thinks. _I wouldn’t possibly spend an entire visit feeling like someone was carving a hole in my chest_.

He stands then, no longer able to keep himself still in the chair he’s been sitting in. At the same time Alejandro pushes up off the railing, almost as if he’d planned it that way. They both freeze for a second, and then Alejandro grins, amusement flashing across his face for the briefest of moments.

“I’ll say this for you, Joshua Faraday, you certainly keep things interesting.”

Faraday laughs at that, the aching feeling lodged in his chest dissipating for at least a second. “Likewise, Alejandro Vasquez.”

Alejandro’s grin shifts into something more like a smile, and he steps forward with one hand outstretched. It takes Faraday a bit to realize what’s he’s after, but when he does he grabs the hand and shakes it willingly, pleased he gets to touch Alejandro one last time, even if it’s only for something like this.

He claps Alejandro on the shoulder with a heavy hand just because he can and then pulls back, shaking his other hand free of Alejandro’s grip as he goes. It’s definitely time for him to get out of here, he thinks. Maybe he should say something else, something more, but even as he’s stepping away he knows the words won’t come. Whatever use his words have been to him in the past, they’ve failed him now.

Giving Alejandro one last wan smile he steps away and turns towards the door. All he has to do is pop back inside, wrestle his bag away from Red, and he’s home free. Sure, he hasn’t technically told Alejandro everything he’s supposed to, but why bother when the other man clearly doesn’t have any interest in seeing him stay.

 _You could at least tell him you’ll miss him_ , says a tiny voice in his head that sounds like Goodnight for some reason. _What’s the harm in seeing how he reacts?_

Faraday sternly tells that voice to shut the hell up and reaches for the door handle, intent on getting back inside the house and away from everything that’s happening here. Sure there were other folks around who seemed to think he should handle this differently, but what did they know?

Except, he thinks as he curls his hand around the doorknob, is this really how he wants to leave things? If he just up and runs off now, there’s a solid chance he’ll spend the rest of his life wondering what might have happened if he’d just had the nerve to open his mouth.

On the other hand, not opening his mouth means he doesn’t run the risk of getting royally turned down, so that has to be taken into consideration.

“You okay there, guero?” Alejandro asks, making Faraday realize that he’s taken too long to haul the damn door open. He tightens his grip momentarily, before releasing it and stepping back with a sigh.

 _Fuck it_ , he thinks not for the first time tonight. _Fuck it all_.

Turning around he finds that Alejandro has closed the distance between the two of them without his realizing it. Faraday spares a moment to drink him all in, and then he curls his hands around the back of the other man’s neck and hauls him in for a kiss.

Faraday puts everything he has into the kiss, trying to telegraph exactly what he’s feeling through it. He hears as well as feels it when Alejandro makes a startled sound in the back of his throat, and then Alejandro’s hands are on him, fisting tightly in the fabric of his shirt as Faraday licks his way into his mouth, desperate to taste him before he has to pull away.

Alejandro makes a low growling sound, and Faraday takes that as permission to deepen the kiss, while at the same time he runs one of his hands up and buries his fingers in Alejandro’s thick, dark curls, using his grip to tilt the man’s head in exactly the way he wants. He feels Alejandro’s teeth catch on his lip and gasps at the sharp stinging sensation.

That’s enough to startle them both back to reality, and they pull apart just enough that they can stare at each other, both of them panting raggedly.

“I shouldn’t have -.” Faraday starts to say.

“Why did you -?” Alejandro begins at the same time.

His hands are still fisted in Faraday’s shirt, and while Faraday has released his grip on Alejandro’s hair, his own hands have shifted down to rest on the man’s broad shoulders, the bare skin warm beneath his palms.

“I’m sorry,” Faraday says, forcing himself to release his grip altogether. “I should not have done that. I did not mean to do that, and I am leavin’. Right now. This is me goin’.” He tries to take a step back, both because he needs to go and because he needs space to breathe, but Alejandro doesn’t let him.

“Is that what you want?” He asks his voice rough as he shakes Faraday ever so slightly, his fingers still clenched tightly around Faraday’s t-shirt. “I’ll let go if that’s what you want, but if it isn’t …” He trails off, and Faraday feels a traitorous curl of hope start to bloom in his chest.

“If it isn’t?” He repeats, pitching the words so that Alejandro can tell he means it as a question.

Alejandro squares his shoulders and looks Faraday straight in the eye. “If it isn’t then you should stay. Damnit, Joshua, stay. Stay with me, por favor.”

It’s the please that does it. One second he’s somewhat under control, and then the next Faraday’s hooking his fingers in the belt loops of Alejandro’s pants so he can haul him in again. “I don’t want to go,” he admits breathlessly between kisses as his hands roam all over every part of Alejandro they can reach before finally coming up to frame his jaw so that Faraday can hold him exactly where he wants him.

“Then _don’t_ ,” Alejandro hisses. He snarls something desperate sounding in Spanish that Faraday doesn’t understand, yet at the same time he does.

“I won’t, I won’t,” Faraday promises. “I don’t want to. I never wanted to. I only thought it was what you wanted me to do.”

“How would you know what I wanted when you never _asked_?” Alejandro demands, and Faraday has to admit he has a point there. He’s been assuming things this whole time without ever once trying to find some facts with which to shore his theories up.

“Sorry,” he says, tilting Alejandro’s head down so that he can smack a kiss dead centre in the middle of his forehead. “I’ll try and be better at that, I swear.”

“It’s alright,” Alejandro rumbles, leaning in as Faraday presses kiss after kiss along the line of his jaw. “I suppose I’ve been just as bad.”

Faraday tries to deny this, but he’s too busy with the task at hand and winds up forgetting what he means to say. He feels like he’s drowning, like Alejandro has somehow managed to steal all the breath from his body, as well as any chance at rational thought. He also never wants it to stop.

They stumble backwards, still locked together, and Faraday hears a distant crashing sound as one of the numerous patio chairs gets knocked over because it was in their way. Then Alejandro’s back hits the railing he’d been leaning up against earlier, and they come to a halt, still kissing.

Faraday loses track of time after that, the only thing he’s aware of being the feel of Alejandro beneath his hands, and he’s therefore startled when the back door slams open and an exasperated voice exclaims, “Jesus Christ, are you two still at it?”

Yelping in surprise, Faraday comes very close to elbowing Alejandro in the ribs when he spins around and finds Billy Rocks standing framed in the doorway, looking for all the world like he’s thinking about knifing one or both of them. “You’ve been doing this for ages,” he says, more riled up than Faraday feels is warranted. “I had to shift back to human just so I could stop listening to you.”

“Oh, sweet fuck.” Faraday groans as the awareness that he’s just agreed to move into a house full of people with super hearing hits him. “Oh, this isn’t happening.”

Behind him, Alejandro chuckles as he wraps his arms around Faraday’s waist. “It is definitely happening, guero,” he murmurs, his voice a delighted purr in Faraday’s ear. “You don’t get to have second thoughts now.”

“That’s not true,” Billy says fervently. “You absolutely do get to have second thoughts, Faraday. Red’s still holding your belongings hostage, but I will go fight him for them if you decide you want to leave.”

“Red’s doing what?” Alejandro asks, even as he tightens his grip on Faraday.

“Don’t ask,” Faraday says, slapping at him half-heartedly. “Let’s just say the brat’s goin’ to be feelin’ pretty smug for the considerable future. And let up a bit, would you? I’m not goin’ anywhere and I like bein’ able to breathe.”

“Promise?” Alejandro asks, and Faraday doesn’t miss the note of wariness in his voice.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Faraday assures him. “I promise.”

“Ah god, I can’t watch this,” Billy groans, slapping a hand over his eyes and ducking back into the house. “Goody! Goody, you were right, okay? Now go tell Sam how much money he owes you and leave me out of it!”

The door slams shut behind him and Faraday and Alejandro kind of just stare at it for a moment or two.

“This family,” Faraday says finally, “is _insane_.”

“Si,” Alejandro agrees, “but you will learn to embrace us and all our eccentricities.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Faraday decides. Then he shifts so that he can look at Alejandro over his shoulder. “Now what?”

“Now?” Alejandro echoes flashing Faraday one of those wild grins he’s so fond of. “Now you are going to go recuse your possessions from Red’s clutches, and I am going to go shake Goodnight until he coughs up half the money he apparently won by betting on us.”

“And if Billy tries to kill you for that?”

“Eh, I can take him.”

“Jesus wept,” Faraday groans. “I’m in love with a crazy person.”

He freezes when he realizes what he’s just said, but Alejandro doesn’t miss a beat. “And he’s in love with you, guero,” he says, smacking a kiss to Faraday’s cheek as he moves around him to head for the door. “Come on, let’s get inside.”

“Huh,” Faraday murmurs as he watches Alejandro pull the door open and dart into the kitchen. “Well alright then.”

*****

“Do you really love me, though?” Faraday asks later because he’s forever a man who can’t leave well enough alone.

It’s just the two of them finally, lying curled up in Alejandro’s bed – their bed now, he supposes, and isn’t that a strange thought – sweat-soaked and sated. Next to him, Alejandro frowns. His face is shadowed, since the only light in the room is coming from one of the bedside table lamps, but Faraday doesn’t miss the expression. “Why do you ask me that like you expect the answer to be no?”

Faraday shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant. “Guess I’m just not used to people caring at all, let alone people caring that much. Plus,” he holds up a finer to further illustrate this last point. “I did almost get you and your entire family killed.”

Absurdly, this makes Alejandro roll his eyes. “Joshua, the only person you almost got killed was yourself.”

“I shot Jack.”

“He got better.”

“I almost shot you.”

“I didn’t even need to get better.”

“Alejandro.”

“ _Joshua_. Sí, I can do that too, cariño.” He adds when Faraday makes a face at him. “Stop being foolish.”

“It ain’t foolish,” Faraday protests. “And you didn’t even say yes or no when I asked.”

“What? Oh.” Alejandro leans over and brushes his nose against Faraday’s temple. “Te amo,” he says softly, placing a kiss in the same spot. “I love you.” Another kiss on his cheek, and then Alejandro tilts Faraday’s face towards him with the fingers of one hand. “I love you,” he says, and this time he breathes the words right into Faraday’s mouth as he goes in for a kiss.

Faraday opens for him as easily as he ever does, letting Alejandro lick his way into his mouth and steal the air from his lungs as he goes. Alejandro shifts again, so that he’s pinning Faraday to the mattress with his own weight.

“Now this,” he says as he pulls back, “is when you tell me you love me too.”

Faraday wrinkles his nose. “I already said it once tonight.”

Alejandro pouts at him, there’s no other way to describe it. “So there’s a limit to how often I can hear it? Guerito, that’s not fair.”

“Jesus,” Faraday grumbles feeling his face heat under the weight of Alejandro’s stare, “enough with the pet names, you overgrown fur ball.”

“Really, guero? That’s what’s you’re going with?” Alejandro asks, raising his eyebrows. “You are such an embarrassing man.”

“Embarassin’ enough to make you take the whole ‘love’ thing back?” Faraday asks, and if he doesn’t exactly manage to pass that off as a joke, at least Alejandro won’t tell anyone.

True to form, Alejandro shakes his head firmly. “No, querido, certainly not that embarrassing. Never.”

“Oh my god,” Faraday says, bringing his hands up to try and hide how much his face is heating. “I don’t even know what half of them mean.”

“They mean I love you,” Alejandro says simply. “Just like,” he adds pointedly, “you love me.”

“Alright. Alright alright alright,” Faraday says, giving in. “Fine. I love you, you obnoxious person. You happy now?”

Alejandro gives him a smile that could light up the whole room. “Sí. And you believe that I love you, correct?”

“I believe that you love me,” Faraday repeats slowly. “I’m just … not sure it’ll last, I suppose. Or that I deserve it.”

Rather than look upset over this, Alejandro just smiles and crowds back into Faraday’s personal space. “Then I guess I will just have to convince you. It’s a good thing I have a whole lifetime to do it, don’t you think?”

“You are such a fuckin’ sap, Christ. I can’t even look at you. Fuck off.” Groaning, Faraday covers his face again as Alejandro’s laughter echoes throughout the room.

*****

_Epilogue_

Faraday wakes up with a mouthful of fur. This is concerning less because that means there’s a werewolf in his bed and more because it means the _wrong_ werewolf is in his bed. Alejandro never lets the wolf out when they’re in bed together – which, thank god, Faraday’s willing to be adventurous, but he draws the line at bestiality – and that means whoever’s here is not the person Faraday’d gone to sleep with the previous evening.

This is further proven when Faraday cracks his eyes open. Alejandro’s coat is brown, dark brown, yes, but brown nevertheless. His companion’s coat, however, is black. Faraday narrows his eyes. There’s not enough curl to the fur for it to be Sam and the wolf’s too big to be Billy, which leaves only one open. “Goddamnit, Red,” he says with a groan. “The hell are you doin’ in here?”

Slowly, Red raises his head up off where it’s resting on his front paws and gives Faraday a baleful look. Silence stretches between them for a few moments, and then a set of gigantic fangs become visible as Red lets out a yawn big enough that Faraday’s surprised he doesn’t dislocate his jaw. Once that’s accomplished, he lays his head down, giving off every indication that he’s going back to sleep.

“Thanks for the clarification,” Faraday grumbles, kicking free of the blankets. It’s one thing for him to curl up with wolves who aren’t Alejandro when he’s sitting in the living room or sprawled out on the back porch, but he draws the line at doing it in his own bed. Which is why, even though it’s still horrifically early and he has nothing important to do today, he forces himself to get up.

Red doesn’t move as Faraday hauls a pair of discarded jeans up off the floor and tugs them on. Nor does he so much as twitch when Faraday opens the closet and goes rooting around for a serviceable shirt.

No longer in a state of relative undress, Faraday moves to leave the room. He pauses in the doorway, his hand wrapped loosely around the doorknob, and turns to look back at Red. “And does His Majesty prefer the door open or shut this morning?” He asks sarcastically.

Red’s only reply is a single, solitary thump of his tail, so Faraday snorts and pointedly leaves the door ajar behind him. Let him get up and close it if he wants the privacy he apparently doesn’t see fit to grant to other people.

Muttering to himself as he stomps along the hallway and then down the stairs, Faraday’s pleasantly surprised when the smell of bacon frying reaches his nostrils. It seems he’s not the only one out of bed at an early hour. Though, he belatedly realizes that at least Alejandro has to be up because otherwise he’d still have been in bed when Faraday had been rudely awakened by their unexpected visitor.

However, it’s not Alejandro who’s in the kitchen when Faraday blearily stumbles over to it, but Goodnight, looking relaxed and easy in front of the stove. He’s been spending more and more time human lately in Faraday’s company. According to Alejandro, doing away with Bogue and his ilk had done wonders for the older were’s peace of mind. Still, Faraday knows having too many people around sometimes makes Goodnight antsy, so he wraps his knuckles lightly on the kitchen entranceway before he steps inside.

Goodnight just shoots him a grin, and throws a bit of seasoning into the pan in front of him. “I already heard you coming. You hungry?”

“Starving,” Faraday admits, having realized as much when he’d first smelled the food cooking. “Please tell me you’ve got enough there for me.”

“And then some,” Goodnight says with a laugh. “Grab a seat. It’ll be ready in a minute or two.”

Obligingly, Faraday does as he’s told, settling himself down in one of the kitchen chairs, realizing as his foot brushes an unexpected furry body that he and Goodnight aren’t as alone as he’d first thought. A quick glance under the table reveals Billy, who’s chewing industriously on what looks like it might have been a rawhide bone in a previous life before it’d come into the possession of a determined werewolf. Whatever it is or was, Faraday doesn’t think it’s going to last much longer, not at the rate Billy seems to be tearing through it anyway.

He waits patiently while Goodnight finishes up with the food on the stove, and then nods gratefully when a steaming plate is set down in front of him. “Thanks,” he says. He stabs a piece of bacon with his fork, blows on it just enough to cool it a little, and stuffs it into his mouth. Chewing, he asks, “Either of you seen Alejandro yet today? I woke up with the wrong werewolf in my bed this morning and I don’t know where he’s gotten to.”

“The wrong – no, you know what? I’m not going to ask.” Decision made, Goodnight sits down at the table and digs into his own breakfast. “I haven’t seen him, and Billy’s been with me all morning so he wouldn’t have either. I’m sure he’s around somewhere though.”

“Well I figured that much,” Faraday replies. “I don’t imagine he’s been spirited away in the middle of the night without my noticin’.”

“One would certainly hope not,” Goodnight agrees.

They both dig into their respective meals and it’s not long before some of the others start wandering into the kitchen as well. First comes Emma, with her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail as she wanders in through the back door. Based on the splotch of dirt adorning one of her arms, Faraday’s going to assume she’s been out in her garden, no doubt trying to get as much work done before it gets too hot for her to want to do anything.

Next it’s Jack, stumbling in from the main part of the house, a newspaper tucked under his arm and a tired expression on his face, like he can’t believe he’s bothered to crawl out of bed this early in the morning. Sam follows close on his heels, but where Jack looks like he’s still half asleep, Sam has the look of man who was up with the dawn and excited about it.

“Anyone see Red?” He asks as he settles down in a seat of his own. “I wanted him to help me out in the barn this mornin’, but I can’t find hide nor hair of him.”

Faraday has a sudden sneaking suspicion he knows what Red had been up to now. It looked like the younger were had been seeking refuge from whatever Sam wanted him to do. What a pity for him that Faraday isn’t above ratting him out in this instance.

“I guess you could say I’ve seen him,” he says, while around the table everyone else shakes their heads. He holds up a hand about two inches away from his face, his palm aimed towards him. “I woke up with him about this close to me a little while ago. It was a bit of a shock, let me tell you.”

Sam frowns as Emma smirks and Goodnight tries and fails to turn a snicker into a cough. From under the table there comes a snorting sound that indicates Billy’s trying not to laugh as well. “He knows better than to do that,” Sam says, sounding annoyed. “Did you kick him out?”

Faraday shrugs. “I more so kicked me out and came lookin’ for breakfast.”

Sam sighs. “Of course you did. Well, if you see him again before I do, make sure he knows he’s not gettin’ out of helpin’ me.”

Faraday offers him a mock salute that earns him his own frown in response, and returns to his meal.

Breakfast then continues apace until it’s broken by shrill barking emanating from outside, which then tapers off into a furious howl. Faraday almost drops his cutlery in surprise at the noise, and he doesn’t miss the way Goodnight’s back goes from slumped and easy going to ramrod straight in the blink of an eye.

“It’s fine,” Emma cuts in before anyone can say anything. “It’s just Vasquez and Teddy playing. They were outside with me earlier.”

As far as Faraday’s concerned that didn’t sound like playing, but he still has trouble identifying such things sometimes so he’s willing to take her word for it. Luckily, Emma’s further vindicated when the back door is flung open and Alejandro, fully human shaped and sporting a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that Faraday’s ninety-nine percent certain don’t belong to him, comes stumbling inside, cackling as he goes and with one of Teddy’s prized Frisbees held aloft in his hand.

Right behind him is Teddy, still barking furiously, almost tripping over himself as he gets up on his hind legs to try and snatch the toy out of Alejandro’s hand. He’s unsuccessful in his attempts, which gives Alejandro enough time to whip the Frisbee around and send it spinning under the table the rest of them are clustered around, arcing it neatly down between Emma and Faraday.

Teddy’s after it in the blink of an eye, almost sending Emma flying in his rush to scrabble under the table, and then Billy’s in the mix, snarling crankily due to having his morning interrupted by a flailing wolf pup.

“Damnit, Vasquez!” Sam snaps, pounding the table futilely as Emma and Goodnight both duck down to pull Billy and Teddy apart lest someone get bitten again. Next to him, Jack calmly takes a sip of coffee and then retreats behind his newspaper like the old fogey he is. “What the hell?”

Alejandro grins, totally unrepentant, and slinks over to the table until he’s standing only a few inches behind Faraday. “I couldn’t help it, amigo,” he says as he rests his hands on Faraday’s shoulders. “You all looked too calm not to bother.”

“Great, wonderful. Thank you so much for this,” Sam grouses. The table shifts as someone, Faraday has no idea who, bumps into it, and Sam barely manages to stop his glass of juice from tipping over into his lap. “It’s exactly how I wanted to spend my morning, let me tell you.”

“Seems alright to me,” Alejandro says with a laugh. He leans forward a bit, and Faraday calmly spears a piece of bacon with his fork, holding it aloft until Alejandro snaps it up with his teeth. “Gracias, guerito.” He mumbles around the food.

“Mhm,” Faraday replies. “Don’t think you’re gettin’ any more of mine though. There’s a whole batch over by the stove if you want some.”

Alejandro shrugs and settles himself more firmly against Faraday’s back, humming contentedly as the noise from the others continues on around them. “I’m good where I am, Joshua.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it folks - a massive dish of mutual pining and miscommunication followed by a schmoopy, Disney-style ending. Never let it be said I don't give the masses what they want, or that I'm not predictable where happy endings are concerned. :D

**Author's Note:**

> Yeahhhh, it occurred to me while editing this that for a story about werewolves there's not a lot of that in this part? Not to worry, Act 2 has wayyyyy more wolfy shenanigans, as does Act 3. This one is largely all about building a relationship and then, uh, dismantling it. My bad.
> 
> As always, comments are love.


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